


Please Forgive Me

by Tess_Lucetram



Series: So Far So Good [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 06, Angel Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bryan Adams, Dominant Castiel, Fix-It, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mates, Nesting, Sequel, Song Lyrics, Submissive Dean, Top Castiel, Various TV/Movie/Song/Literary References, Winged Dean Winchester, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4875421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tess_Lucetram/pseuds/Tess_Lucetram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after the night before, and Dean isn't handling things well. Bobby needs help getting his soul back from Crowley. The boys go in search of something dealing for souls at the demon's request and run across a strange case in Easter, PA. Dean makes a new friend, and Castiel is trickier than anyone imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Dean woke the next morning to an awesome sight. Castiel was still snuggled up with him in the bed and his amazing blue eyes were laser focused on Dean.

“Hey,” Dean croaked, voice rough with sleep.

“Good morning, Dean,” the angel responded with a smile. “How are you feeling today?”

Dean blushed slightly and closed his eyes before speaking, hoping to give himself some distance. “Uh, better, I guess,” he said dismissively.

Castiel frowned, but said nothing when Dean opened his eyes and smiled again.

“We should get up and get going,” Dean stated, beginning to do just that. “We told Bobby we’d come see him when this case was over.”

He stood and stretched all of his limbs to their full length, wings included, bending side to side at the waist. Castiel’s mouth abruptly went dry. He had to swallow twice before he could respond. “Do you think you should call ahead and tell him about our new situation?” he asked thoughtfully. After Sam’s phone call the night before to confirm winning their bet, the older hunter was aware of their change of relationship, but not Dean’s new species.

Dean stopped his stretching and turned to look at Castiel, who was still lying in bed. “Actually, I thought we might let Sammy drive the car there and you and I fly over and surprise him,” Dean suggested.

Castiel was out of the bed in a moment, fully dressed and face radiating happiness. “You want to fly with me?” he asked, voice full of joy.

Dean leaned in to peck his lips. “Yeah, Cas. I want to fly with you,” Dean admitted softly.

Castiel could have shouted for joy in that moment. His mate wanted to fly with him! Cross country even! But he reigned himself in at the last moment, aware that Dean wouldn’t take his rejoicing as Castiel meant it. He did grin widely at Dean, who returned the favor and gave Castiel another, deeper kiss.

“C’mon,” Dean said, tugging on his trench coat sleeve. “You pack up the guns and stuff while I get dressed. Then we’ll let Sam know what’s going on and get moving.”

Castiel nodded along and watched as Dean then bent over to retrieve his jeans and flannel shirt from the floor. He was surprised by the wave of possessive lust that rushed over him from seeing Dean in that position with just his boxers on. Something must have shown on his face because when Dean stood back up and turned around, his mate winked and laughed softly. Castiel could feel the blood rush to his vessel’s face and the tops of his ears felt hot. Dean laughed a little louder, but it was a good sound. So, ignoring his flaming face, Castiel used his Grace to gather all the equipment scattered about the room along with all of Dean’s personal belongings, and transferred everything to its rightful spot in the Impala.

Dean blinked in surprise when the motel room was suddenly free of hunting paraphernalia and spotlessly clean. He whistled softly. “Wow. That’s a handy trick. You’ll have to show me how to do that some time.”

A few minutes later and Sam was informed of their plans.

“Cool,” Sam said. “That means I don’t have to listen to screaming metal for once.”

“Don’t you dare plug in that iPod jack, Sam,” Dean warned half-heartedly, but smiled as he did so.

“No promises,” Sam replied with a shrug, and closed his door on them.

Dean looked at Cas. “Well, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Castiel nodded and stepped up behind Dean, opening his dark wings. Dean relaxed back into him and copied the gesture. Tawny, speckled feathers mingled once more with their oil-slick black counterparts. Castiel’s Grace sang with pleasure as he wrapped his arms around Dean and beat his wings. The two angels were gone in an instant. They didn’t notice the demon lurking by the vending machines, who also vanished with a malicious smile on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The demon didn’t have a name. It didn’t remember its human one, and it wasn’t important enough in Hell to have earned its own. But the meat suit was called Tom, and that worked just fine. Tom was a very young, low-ranking demon. He tried to steer clear of the machinations of Hell for the most part. He knew he was only cannon fodder and any encounter with either hunters or angels would only lead to either his banishment back to the Pit or his death. For good this time. So he spent his time making minor chaos and generally having a good time.

He’d stopped in a tiny little town somewhere on the North Carolina/Tennessee border to stir up some trouble in a local dive bar when he felt it. An explosion of raw celestial energy rocked through the higher planes with no warning. The power was enough to make his head spin and his insides clench. Despite his dislike of the power jockeys in Hell, if they found out he knew about this and did nothing… Well, the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” he barked, skipping out on his bar tab. He rounded the corner of the bar and vanished, reappearing in the close vicinity of the origin of the shock wave. He was in a motel parking lot; one of those tacky mom and pop places that was bound to have out dated and kitschy décor. He turned in a circle, wondering what could have possibly happened here that had any cosmic significance, when his eyes fell on **the car**.

Every demon knew that car. Hell, every monster, period, probably knew that car. He’d had acquaintances who went into spasms at classic car shows because of that car. Tom’s stomach dropped and his eyes flicked black defensively. There in the lot was a black behemoth of American muscle. The 1967 Chevrolet Impala gleamed menacingly in the light of the fading sun. Her black paint seemed to absorb the all the light around it, making her look almost like a hole in reality. Her chrome glittered like the edge of a sword in the low light. Just to be sure he wasn’t over reacting, he glanced at the license plate. KAZ-2Y5, the plate proudly proclaimed. Of course. Why would he have thought any differently?

“Oh, shit,” Tom whispered. “The Winchesters.” And probably their pet angel Castiel too, he figured, given the celestial explosion. There was serious trouble brewing and it fell to him to get to the bottom of it. “Damn it,” he said again, just for good measure.

Tom immediately tamped down on the demonic energy that radiated from him. It was tiring to do so, but if the angel was here he’d be able to sense it. So Tom ignored the discomfort and hid it as best he could. Then he poked around the parking lot for a few minutes. He studiously avoided the dangerous black car. Who knew what kind of traps and spells she held. Tom knew for a fact that she had at least two devil’s traps drawn in her. He wouldn’t put it past the brothers to do something much nastier. Just as he was about to go into the office to rent himself a room for the night, there was _another_ explosion of energy, though this one rocked the physical plane much harder than the first.

“This is going from bad to worse,” he muttered, just in time to see Sam Winchester sprint the length of the building and kick in another door. He felt sorry for whatever poor bastard was inside. But wait… Where was the other one? He scanned the lot again, in case he’d missed Dean hiding somewhere. He didn’t see anything, but he heard a muffled shriek from in the room and turned his attention back there. His jaw dropped. Castiel had Sam Winchester at the end of his sword! Shirtless! Unbeknownst to Sam of course, the angel’s wings were mantled dangerously and he blazed on the celestial plane with Holy Wrath and righteous indignation, mixed with… oh, Lucifer’s Ghost, the protectiveness of a dominant angel’s mating instincts.

That explained _everything_. He could guess that the reason Dean hadn’t been right behind Sam was that he was already in the motel room the moose had crashed into. Which meant that Castiel had _finally_ claimed Dean Winchester. He wondered who had won the betting pool in Hell. He knew there was one, though he hadn’t cared to play. It had become a running joke a while ago. _“When do you think such and such will happen?”_ one demon would ask. _“When Castiel mates Dean Winchester,”_ another would respond, laughing uproariously. Guess the twelfth of never had finally come and Hell was going to get chilly.

Castiel had finally backed off and allowed Sam into the room. The door shut and all was quiet. Tom tucked himself behind the vending machines and watched incredulously as Sam was then bodily shoved out of the room a little while later, possibly by Dean himself. The door shut too quickly for Tom to get a good look from his vantage point. He was peering around the vending machine, hoping none of the three would notice him.

Sam went back in and out again within a few minutes of each other. He went back to his own room and everything was silent for the rest of the night. Tom ended up sitting on the bench between two rooms all night. He didn’t want to miss anything by being behind closed doors come morning. His plan paid off when both Dean and Castiel came strolling out of their room around eight a.m. If he hadn’t been a demon, Tom would have fainted. He was sure of it. Dean Winchester, who was arguably the most dangerous human alive, had wings and Grace. Dean Winchester was an angel.

“Fuck, that is so not good,” Tom moaned to himself. He watched the pair of angels speak to Sam without going inside. Sam shrugged at whatever was said and shut his door. Then, to his amazement, Castiel stepped up behind Dean in a very intimate position and opened his wings. Dean did the same, nearly making Tom blush. Both of them were sickeningly radiating trust, happiness, and love within their mating bond. Castiel beat his wings, forcing Dean to do the same and they were gone.

Then it dawned on Tom. Angels were divided into dominant and submissive roles for mating. Castiel was a dominant angel. Dean was a newly made angel, bonded to Castiel. Which meant – Dean was a submissive angel. The thought was so funny after his night and morning of sustained fear that he chuckled to himself and smiled as he blinked away. He had information to report. The King would reward him handsomely.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Dean and Castiel showed up at Singer’s Auto Salvage just moments after they departed the motel in North Carolina. Dean was flushed with excitement. Even though the flight took so little time, it was still different than his previous short flights the night before. His and Castiel’s wings had beat perfectly in time, rubbing together in interesting ways. He could see what all the fuss over flying with your mate was about now. But then, he’d always learned by doing.

“That was awesome!” Dean exclaimed to Cas, turning to throw his arms and wings around him.

Castiel gladly returned the embrace, kissing his mate soundly as well. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Dean.” There was dry amusement clear in his tone.

Dean stepped back and narrowed his eyes playfully at Castiel. “Yeah, yeah,” he finally said with a smile. “You totally told me so. Go ahead and say it.”

The older angel nodded in acknowledgement, face stoic once again, except for the twinkle in his eyes. Dean kissed him again just because, and turned to walk into the house. Castiel felt frozen to the spot.

“You comin’ or what?” he called over his shoulder. Cas hurried to catch up.

Dean let himself into the house with the key Bobby had given him over two decades ago. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it felt like coming home. He wanted to stay here for a while with Cas and just veg out. Maybe lounge in bed all day. He had a momentary fantasy of him and Cas in a blanket fort, surrounded by pillows. It was a weird notion. He’d never once done that unless he was seriously ill. “Hey Bobby,” Dean called. “It’s Dean and Cas. Don’t shoot us.”

There was a rustling sound and the thump of a book being closed from the next room. Bobby appeared in the doorway soon after, holding a shotgun. “I didn’t expect you idjits to be here for another few days at least,” Bobby said, glancing around suspiciously. “Where’s Sam?”

Dean rolled his eyes at the older hunter’s paranoia, justified though it was. “Geez, calm down Bobby,” he groaned. “Sam’s driving the Impala here. Cas and I decided to fly in.”

“Uh huh,” Bobby grunted, gesturing with the sawed off. “Let’s have some proof.”

“What proof do you require?” Cas asked politely.

“Yeah, really not wanting to slice myself here, Bobby,” Dean chimed in. “How about this? The last conversation you had with Sam involved you losing fifty bucks. Which I am seriously pissed about, by the way,” Dean offered. “No shapeshifter who could have known that could also have gotten here this fast.”

Bobby still didn’t look convinced. “That may be so, but I know Dean wouldn’t choose traveling angel express over riding in that damned car.” The shotgun didn’t waver.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” Cas finally bit out. The room darkened, lightning flashed, and the shadows of his wings covered the walls. Bobby finally lowered his gun, grumbling. Dean, meanwhile, was trying not to salivate at his mate’s obvious display of power. He shook his head to clear it when Bobby spoke again.

“No need for the theatrics. We could have just gone about it the old fashioned way. Anyway, I’m glad to see you boys, even if you did cost me money. I’ve got something I need you to look into.” He turned to go back into the library and motioned for them to follow. “But why did you fly? I could have waited for all of you.” He seated himself behind his desk and kicked up his feet.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, see, that sort of has to do with you losing your bet with Sam,” he hedged.

“Just spit it out, boy.”

Dean decided that showing was better than telling and began to remove his shirts. He handed the clothing to Cas and took a deep breath. “Don’t freak out, okay?” Bobby nodded and Dean made his wings corporeal. Bobby was out of his chair in an instant.

“Holy crap, Dean! What in the sam hill did you idjits do?” he growled.

“Hey! You said you wouldn’t freak out,” Dean all but pouted. “Anyway, it’s not really our fault. Cas says God did this because we’re a mated pair and I was just a puny human. It’s not like we expected this.”

Bobby looked slightly mollified by this explanation. “Well,” he huffed, “turn around and let me see ‘em properly.” Dean obliged and spread them out a bit as well, to better show off the coloring of his new appendages. He was starting to come around to the idea that having wings was pretty bad ass. “Can I touch them?” Bobby asked after a moment of scrutiny.

“Carefully,” Dean cautioned, glancing at Cas. He’d noticed the angel’s stare of doom directed at Sam the night before and didn’t want any incidents. “And just the flight feathers on the outside.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at the stipulations, but complied. He ran his fingers through the large feathers at the bottom, peering at them closely. “Can you spread them fully?” he finally asked, backing away. “I’d like to see the full effect.”

Dean shrugged and did as he was asked again. He noticed Cas staring at him intensely and winked. Cas’ ears went pink again and he looked away.

“One more thing?” Bobby interrupted them. “Can I see the underside up close? I promise I won’t touch if you don’t want me to.”

Dean complied again, twisting one wing back so the downy feathers underneath were fully exposed. Bobby leaned in close but was true to his word and didn’t make contact. He seemed to be studying Dean’s new shoulder joint.

“Huh,” he finally said, backing away. “Didn’t figure angel wings would so closely resemble bird wings. But then, why deviate from a pattern that works, right? It’ll be a bitch to preen yourself though, what with your oil glands being in such an awkward spot. Think when you start molting, if you do, I could have a few feathers for spell ingredients?”

Dean wasn’t sure what to make of that. It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting the older man to say. He looked to Cas for clarification. He plucked his shirts from the angel’s grasp and hid his wings again. “Cas, want to answer this one? Because I have no clue,” he requested, tugging his t-shirt over his head.

Cas cleared his throat self-consciously. “Ah, yes, we do occasionally molt feathers, though not to the extent that birds do,” he informed the hunter. “You may certainly have the old ones when they become available. As for the grooming… That is one benefit of having a mate. I can groom Dean’s wings and he can groom mine. Unmated angels have to rely on each other, which is a bit awkward at times.”

“What was that about oil glands, though?” Dean asked, shrugging on his flannel.

Now Cas looked beyond uncomfortable. Dean hadn’t seen that look since the night at the brothel. He was about to speak again, to tell Cas he didn’t have to answer right now if he didn’t want to, when Cas decided to talk after all. “An angel’s oil glands do function much like a bird’s. The natural oils keep the feathers from fraying and the skin underneath from getting dry. They are also important for angelic mating rituals…”

“Whoa, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, glancing at Bobby. “No need for that kind of detail right now.”

Bobby only crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled. “Oh, grow up, Dean,” he said. “It wasn’t anything I hadn’t already figured out.”

“So, what was that job you mentioned?” Dean asked, desperate to move beyond this conversation.

Bobby chuckled at Dean’s obvious embarrassment but humored him. “It’s that bastard Crowley. He still owns my soul and won’t give it up. He says the contract states that he only has to make ‘best efforts’ and it isn’t in his best interests for him to do so right now. I’m in a pickle with this one, boys.”

Castiel looked thoughtful. He remembered what had happened in the alternate timeline he’d peeked in on. “Could we use his human remains as leverage against him?” Cas asked. “It worked before.”

The older hunter shook his head. “Thought of that already and had Rufus do some checking. Seems you’re not the only one able to look in on alternate futures. Crowley had his remains moved, and I can’t find out where. We’ll have to come up with something else.”

“That Crowley knows of our possible future is both troubling and disturbing. It takes a lot of power to gain that kind of information. The past is not so hard because there is only one. It has already happened, and for the most part is set in place. Unless she is otherwise distracted, Fate does not allow for large changes. The future though… Everything is in flux. There are infinite possibilities, some more likely than others, all leading to an ultimate end game. Although, at this point, my Father’s plan is almost entirely opaque. We thought it was one thing, but we were wrong. It seems He is playing His own game and not telling us the rules.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Dean interrupted. “What about the time you sent me back to meet my mom? All that, ‘You have to stop it,’ crap you spouted at me? You told me that if I changed things in the past that the present, future, whatever, would be different.”

“An object lesson only,” Cas explained sheepishly. “You were never meant to change anything. Heaven didn’t want that at all, because then you and Sam wouldn’t be who you are. They only wanted you to be aware of your mother’s deal and Sam’s role in it. In any case, Fate would not have allowed past events to be tampered with so blatantly. But we made it seem like you could influence things so that when everything went wrong, you would be guilty and angry and more susceptible to Michael.”

“Seriously? Cas, the more I know about your dickhead brothers the less I like about them. That’s just low,” Dean stated heatedly.

“I agree,” Castiel said. “But it is much better now. Less corruption than before.”

“But not _no_ corruption,” Dean shot back. “You’d think, what with Heaven being the nominal ‘good guys’ it would be above all that, no pun intended. But it’s still made up of shady politicians.”

“Not that this isn’t an interesting debate, but could we get back on topic?” Bobby asked sarcastically. “Namely, how we get my soul back from that slimy Scottish bastard? You can interrogate him about his knowledge of the future when we drag him here about that.”

“Of course,” Cas replied. “Apologies. I suppose the question we have to ask is: what does Crowley want more than your soul?”

“Well, we know he still wants to pop Purgatory,” Dean answered. “Maybe we could do something with that.”

“That is a very bad idea, Dean,” Cas responded quickly. “We know there are Leviathan in there, and I for one have no intentions of letting them out.”

“No, of course not,” Dean agreed earnestly. “I don’t want that either. But could we pretend to play along for a while?”

“I don’t think that will work either, son,” Bobby chimed in. “Whatever we agree on, Crowley will want a contract, and demon deals are binding. If he found out we’d reneged, he could claim my soul again, probably instantly.”

“Well, there’s got to be _something_ else he wants,” Dean said desperately.

Castiel watched his mate’s wings flare with his strong emotions. He reached out with one of his own to gently stroke the agitated feathers. Dean relaxed almost instantly, sending Castiel a grateful look. Cas nodded in acknowledgement and moved closer so he could wrap his wing around Dean’s shoulders and back.

“We’ll figure something out, Dean,” Castiel tried to console him. “Perhaps he’ll just tell us what he’s willing to trade for Bobby’s soul.”

Dean snorted rudely. “Yeah, because our lives are easy like that,” he snarked.

“Worth a shot,” Bobby replied with a shrug. “At the very least, it can’t hurt. He wouldn’t tell me when I questioned him by myself, but maybe the two of you can get something out of him. Besides, I kind of want to see his face when he realizes Dean’s an angel.”

Dean grinned at that thought. As far as Crowley knew, Castiel was still the only angel willing to help the Winchesters, despite them averting the Apocalypse and Heaven’s civil war. Now that Dean was powered up, there were two angels on Team Free Will. And according to Cas, angels were stronger when they were mated. Added to Cas’ already spectacular awesomeness, he figured they were gonna be tough to beat.

“I don’t think Dean should be involved when we question Crowley,” Cas disagreed, instantly putting a pin in Dean’s growing excitement.

“What?! Cas!” Dean objected, ready to go off on the other angel. But Castiel held up his palm in a “wait a minute” gesture so he could explain. Dean scowled fiercely, but fell silent.

“I do not like the risk it presents to Dean,” Cas explained evenly. “Crowley would somehow twist the situation to his advantage. I’m not willing to risk my mate’s safety for the sake of information that could be gathered without him.”

Dean was livid. “Excuse me?” he growled. “I thought I just heard you say I can’t question Crowley because I’m officially your mate now. And I know that can’t be right. Because if it is, you and I have a lot of things to discuss.”

Castiel recognized Dean’s soft, dangerous tone from those times he’d denied Dean requested information on Heaven’s orders. It was _not_ good. He quickly tried to backpedal. “That is not what I meant, exactly,” Castiel nearly stammered. “I only meant that you are a very new angel. And while you are, yes, potentially very powerful, you don’t know how to use it yet. I’d prefer…”

Dean cut him off. “That sounds like more of that dominant/submissive crap to me. Poor helpless Dean, huh? In case you don’t remember, I did just fine dealing with a lot worse than Crowley as a plain old vanilla human. Your objection and concern is noted, but I _will_ be in on this.”

Castiel looked at Bobby beseechingly, silently begging the man for support and to talk sense into Dean.

“Don’t look at me,” Bobby objected, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m with Dean on this one. Crowley’s a slick businessman, if ever there was one, and we need all hands on deck if we’re dealing with him. Which is why I’m waiting for Sam to get here too.”

Cas’ posture slumped in defeat. Even now he could feel his dominant instincts kicking up a fuss. It had happened while Dean was still human too, but never to this extent. Now that their mating was partly consummated, he wanted to squirrel Dean away from everything. He knew the stubborn man wouldn’t allow it, but Cas wished he would concede this one job. If they’d been in Heaven, they would have been given time to adjust to their new state before being thrust back into battle. That way both partners’ instincts could calm and the bonding could be strengthened.

Of course, in Heaven submissive angels usually spent the month following their mating staying close to home and out of danger while building a nest for the pair. This also gave the dominant time to indulge in watching over their mate constantly and to get used to the idea that their mate might one day be in danger. The system worked quite well. It was almost what humans might call a honeymoon. Some couples required more time and some required less, but a month was the usual time. It seemed that Dean’s humanity was dulling his nesting instinct. Dean knew he was a capable hunter with or without both Castiel and his new Grace. He didn’t need or want anyone looking after him. And he didn’t have a stable enough home to consider making a nest. Castiel would just have to adapt. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Fine,” he finally huffed in frustration, drawing away from his mate. Up until then, he’d still had a wing wrapped around Dean.

Dean’s face softened and little bit of hurt crept in. He turned to face his angel. “Aw, c’mon Cas. Don’t be like that. Everything will work out. You’ll see. And afterward, maybe we can take a little time for us. But right now, Bobby’s soul is the priority.”

Bobby was now studiously ignoring the pair, since Dean had followed Castiel’s movement and they were now facing each other, very close together. Dean glanced at the older man and turned and motioned for Cas to follow him back outside. They stopped on the scrubby lawn and Dean was quick to grab Cas in a hug.

“Hey, talk to me, man,” Dean requested. “Is this like the flying thing?”

Castiel relaxed into his mate’s hold. Words could not express how gratified he was to hear that Dean wanted some extended time for just them. It figured that Dean would put everyone ahead of his own needs though, even if he was right in this instance. Bobby’s soul had to be a priority. It was also nice that Dean was so much more tactile with him these past couple of days. It gave him hope that not all of Dean’s new angelic instincts were being subsumed by his human ones. He loved Dean with all of his being and didn’t want him to change his personality, but he did want Dean to acknowledge his angelic qualities too. It would be hard for them both if Dean continued to act like a dominant angel as he’d been doing. He hoped in time that Dean could accept that being cared for did not mean he was weak.

“It is similar, and related,” Castiel finally sighed. “I’m unsure how to explain it to you without making you uncomfortable or angry with me.”

Dean laid his head on Cas’ shoulder, giving in to the desire to be in full contact with the other angel. “No judgments, Cas. Just tell me. I can’t promise I won’t be uncomfortable, but I promise I won’t get mad.”

Castiel nodded and then looked to the sky for a moment, trying to find a good starting point. He finally just spilled everything he’d been thinking. About angel culture, behavior between mated pairs and the “honeymoon” period he was missing, when Dean would build them a nest. Dean listened attentively, still pressed against him and wrapped up in Castiel’s dark wings. When the angel was done, Dean laughed lightly.

“Well,” he chuckled, “that explains why I’m so touchy feely right now. And the desire to build a blanket fort with you in Bobby’s spare room.”

“Truly?” Cas asked. “You thought of doing that previous to our conversation?”

“Yeah, as we were coming up the steps to the house. It was a momentary image I got. It was kind of nice. I wouldn’t exactly mind.”

“It does sound quite nice.” And Castiel could picture it too. Soft sunlight streaming through the windows hitting the bed piled high with squishy pillows and fuzzy blankets. He and Dean in loungewear, lying close together… His reverie was interrupted when Dean spoke again.

“Tell you what, when this case is over and we have Bobby’s soul back where it belongs and under proper ownership, we’ll take a vacation, just you and me. We’ll call dibs on Bobby’s spare room and chill for a week or two. I dunno about a whole month, but I think I can stand to be idle for that long.”

Castiel smiled at the light teasing note in Dean’s voice that went along with his last statement. “I’d like that. I suppose that is just more incentive to get Bobby’s soul back all the more quickly.”

Dean pulled away slightly and playfully punched him in the shoulder. “As though you wouldn’t have worked your hardest anyway. I know you too well. You don’t do anything by halves. Meanwhile, maybe we can get a head start on that whole nesting thing. Sam won’t be here for at least a couple of days, and Bobby won’t start anything without him. What do you say? Want to commandeer the guest room?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Cas’ response was to whisk them away inside and magically lock the door. When Bobby became aware of them (because Dean was laughing too hard to be quiet), they occasionally heard him grumbling on the landing but he left them alone. They didn’t resurface until Sam arrived three days later.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

There were parts of Hell that bordered very closely with the mortal realm. It was through these thin spots than an enterprising demon might slip in and out of Hell mostly unnoticed. It was also where Tom headed off to with his information. The King didn’t like the deeper parts of Hell and had what amounted to an office suite next door to Earth. Not that Tom blamed him, of course. All demons spent some time in the Pit. They wouldn’t be demons otherwise. It was only those souls that had been truly twisted in life that chose to stay beyond their time, becoming permanent torturers. Most moved onto chaos-making like Tom or sales like Crowley.

Tom made his way down the corridor, glancing warily at the shadowed corners. One couldn’t be too careful, after all. Just because these were the business offices didn’t mean it wasn’t still Hell. He was unmolested though, when he reached the massive ebony doors that took up the whole end of the hallway. There were two guards posted there, one on either side. He approached them cautiously.

“What do you want?” the one on the right sneered rudely.

“I have urgent information for the King,” Tom told him civilly.

“Yeah, right,” the other spat. “A know-nothing chaos-maker like you? Go away. His Majesty isn’t seeing anyone, least of all you.”

“He’ll want to hear what I have to say,” Tom insisted, with a little more snap to his tone. “It’s about Castiel and the Winchester brothers.”

The guard that had spoken first narrowed his black eyes. “You’d better not be lying,” he warned, before he cracked the door open and whispered inside for a moment. The person on the other side must have answered in the affirmative because the door swung open completely. The guard ushered Tom in and the door slammed shut behind him with an echoing boom.

Tom glanced around for a moment. There were two more guards inside the door and three around the King’s huge desk. It might have been any human office but for the lack of windows and the gas lamps lighting the space. Even though there were no windows, there were drapes hung on the wall to give the illusion of them. Sconces in between held the gas lamps, which gave off most of the light in the long narrow room. A plush carpet, so deeply red as to appear black, led to the desk. Crowley himself sat there examining contracts.

“Well,” he said, without looking up, boredom evident in his voice, “do you have information or not?”

Tom nearly tripped over his feet to get to the desk before answering. “Yes, My Lord.” He bowed respectfully. “I have news of Castiel and the Winchesters.”

Crowley finally looked up. “Go on,” he ordered, still in that bored tone.

Tom gulped. “Well, you see Sire, yesterday I was at a bar…” Crowley snorted and Tom paused, but the King made a ‘go on’ motion. “Er, anyway, there was this explosion on the higher planes, like nothing I’d ever felt. I went to investigate and found the Winchesters at the center of it.”

“That’s not unusual,” Crowley interrupted. “Those two mutton heads frequently get mixed up in that sort of thing. Believe me, I know.”

“But Castiel was there too,” Tom continued again. “I thought it was the usual Winchester mess too, Sire, until there was another explosion. This one affected the physical plane too, and that’s when Sam went charging from one room to another. I felt sorry for the poor bastard who’d rented the room. But when he kicked in the door, Castiel met him at sword point!”

Crowley sat up from his slouch. “Explain,” he demanded.

Tom fidgeted. “Oh, well, he was broadcasting on the higher frequencies quite loudly as a dominant angel that he was protecting his mate. I still hadn’t seen Dean, so I figured they’d finally done the deed.”

“And you came to me with your assumptions?” Crowley growled. One of the guards snickered softly.

“No, Sire,” Tom denied vehemently. “I confirmed it with my own eyes this very morning.”

“So, Castiel finally manned up,” Crowley mused, scratching lightly at the stubble on his chin. “Interesting, and good for a laugh, but hardly urgent as you claimed.”

“But there’s more, My Lord.”

“Spit it out, then!” Crowley commanded, half rising from his chair.

“Dean Winchester has been transformed into an angel! He has wings and his own Grace. Dean and Castiel are not just mated, they are a bonded angelic pair,” Tom said in a rush.

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me? Did you say that Squirrel is an angel? Truly?”

“It is as I said, Your Majesty. I saw it with my own eyes. Dean Winchester is Castiel’s submissive mate. They were _radiating_ with sickening ‘just mated’ vibes before they flew away. I came here right after that.” Tom stood awkwardly now that he had no more to report.

Crowley slouched back into his massive chair again. “You’re dismissed,” he said absently.

Tom didn’t need to be told twice and high tailed it out of the office. So much for his reward, he thought sourly.

Crowley watched his underling go, lost in thought. This _was_ interesting information, and he was lucky to have it before the new and improved Winchesters came looking for him. He could be prepared.

If he knew that lot, the first place they’d go was to Singer’s. The old man was home base, what with that library and cursed iron panic room of his. And if they were going to the scrap yard, Singer would surely tell them all about the fine print in his contract. They would be gunning for him.

“Bollocks,” he cursed succinctly.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Dean and Cas were forced to emerge from Bobby’s guest room when Sam arrived. At first, they’d ignored the banging on the door. Cas’ grace was keeping it shut, so it wasn’t like they had to worry about anyone barging in. It wasn’t until Bobby had threatened to roust them out with a banishing sigil that they’d relented.

Dean sighed from where he sat on the couch, watching Cas out of the corner of his eye. Now that he’d had a taste of angelic nesting, he knew why Cas had pushed for it so hard. It was comforting to just be with his mate, with no expectations. They’d learned that Dean didn’t need sleep or food anymore. His slumber the first night he was an angel was an anomaly. Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but it wasn’t like couldn’t still _have_ burgers and pie. He just didn’t _need_ them anymore. Same went for the Impala. Because no way was he leaving his Baby behind somewhere. Cas would just have to deal with Dean not flying around sometimes. But yeah, the perks definitely outweighed the problems.

Unfortunately, he was a hunter and a Winchester, which meant he couldn’t catch a break. Cas was studying the spines of Bobby’s books very closely. Dean wished he would sit down. Preferably as close to Dean as possible, so he could brush their feathers together and make them smell even more like each other.

He ground his teeth together. No, no, no. He didn’t want to think like that. Animals scent-marked their mates. And yeah, that was the term for him and Cas, but Dean was a man, not a creature. And he certainly didn’t want to smell like Cas so that everyone would _know_ they were both taken. It hadn’t bothered him in their (ugh) nest, but out here in reality Dean was uncomfortable. Logically, he knew that neither Bobby nor Sam could smell angelic oil or pheromones, but it was still a little bit mortifying. He didn’t like that any angel or demon they came across would just know instantly that Dean was the bottom boy. It hurt his masculine pride, not that he’d admit that either. He really needed to stop thinking about this. He took a deep breath to clear his head and rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension.

“So,” he said awkwardly, “what’s the plan?”

“You know the plan already Dean,” Sam retorted from his seat at the table. “Not like it’s complicated. We summon Crowley and see if he’ll deal for Bobby’s soul.”

“Oh, we’re winging it, as usual.”

“You’d know,” Sam teased, not looking up at him, but still smirking at his book. Dean glared.

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“You had plenty of time to come up with something better, boy,” Bobby answered, ignoring the mini-feud out of long habit. “Not our fault you chose to spend it holed up in my guest room with your angel.”

Dean blushed bright red. Not Bobby too! They hadn’t done much of anything except touch each other. But wings were damned sensitive, not to mention their mating marks, and Dean knew he’d made more noise than he was comfortable with.

Cas finally looked up from the bookshelf. “Actually,” he began, “Dean had little choice in the matter. Angelic nesting instincts are very powerful. In fact, I am amazed that you were able to convince either one of us to come out of that room, banishing sigil or no. Once a nest is built like that, most angels don’t leave it for several weeks.”

“Thanks Cas,” Dean muttered. “’Cause that makes things so much better.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at his mate. This was one reason he’d been loath to leave the nest. Dean was backsliding into human ways of thinking about angelic concepts again, judging by the embarrassment that colored his tone. He moved the short distance to the couch and sat pointedly close to Dean. He threw an arm across his shoulders and lightly stroked the arch of Dean’s far wing with his nimble fingers. Dean relaxed almost instantly. Cas was pleased until both Sam and Bobby snorted and Dean stiffened once more.

Castiel glared at them both in turn. Sam looked mildly embarrassed at his behavior, but Bobby was unrepentant. Couldn’t they see how they were only making this harder for Dean with all their teasing? He couldn’t wait until they had more time for themselves. He would suggest they go elsewhere, but he wasn’t sure Dean would go for that. This place was home after all, and that was important to Dean’s instincts. He’d already built a nest here despite the mockery his family was keeping up. He might _strongly_ suggest they make themselves scarce after this business with Crowley was done though.

Sam had caught Dean’s flinch when he snorted and tried to look contrite when Castiel glared at him. But really, who could blame him for giving Dean a hard time? It was just how the brothers communicated. Still, he looked at Dean more closely and realized that instead of just plain embarrassed, Dean was mortified. Sam instantly felt two inches tall. He wondered how he’d feel if after thirty odd years of being a swaggering macho man like Dean, he’d been suddenly thrust into a relationship where… His mind skipped uncomfortably like a scratched record. Hell, he couldn’t even _think_ it. He resolved to be a little more understanding in the future.

The awkward silence that descended over the room was starting to get oppressive. Dean fidgeted and sighed loudly, pulling away from Castiel. He stood and began to pace the room. Castiel’s gaze followed him searchingly. Dean’s feathers were puffy and showed his agitation at the entire situation. When Dean began to unconsciously flex his wings, first tight against his back and then out again, Castiel stood. Dean glanced at him but didn’t stop pacing. Aware of the two human gazes on them, Castiel plucked on Dean’s sleeve as he moved past into the kitchen – a suggestion to follow instead of an order. Dean complied instantly.

The moment they were around the corner and out of sight of their family, Castiel pulled Dean into an embrace. Dean was stiff at first, which saddened Castiel, but he didn’t fight it. Gradually, he relaxed into the older angel’s hold until he was nearly boneless against him. Finally, he wrapped his arms around Castiel too, and it was only then that Castiel wrapped them both in his dark wings.

“I know this is hard for you,” Castiel whispered in Dean’s ear. “I’m sorry.”

“S’not you,” Dean mumbled back. “I just wish Sam and Bobby could be a little more understanding. Not like we had much say in the matter. Your dad just decided in His infinite wisdom that we’d make a cute couple. So boom, fated mates. Just another example of His shitty ideas concerning free will. As in the lack thereof.”

Castiel started. “Is that truly how you feel about this situation? That we are only together because my Father decreed it to be so? That we have no choice in the matter?”

Dean shoved against him, anger etched into every line of his body. “Does it seem like a choice to you?” he hissed. “Predetermined roles for both of us? Inexplicable bonding that neither of us really consented to as you yanked me out of Hell?” Dean’s laugh was ugly and mocking. “Team Free Will. Right. We’re still stuck dancing to your old man’s tune.” He strode from the room and back into the library.

Castiel was left standing alone, wondering how he could get through to his mate the absolute gift being given a true mate was. Judging by Dean’s attitude though, it might well prove impossible.

Sam looked up as Dean stomped back into the library. Apparently his talk with Castiel had not gone as planned. Dean’s facial expression forbid any questions being asked and Sam didn’t hold out hope for Cas telling him what was going on either. He could make an educated guess though.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Dean growled. “The faster we summon that Scottish asshole, the faster we’re through with this.”

Bobby rolled his eyes at Dean’s theatrics. He knew damn well what the boy’s problem was. Dean suffered from the worst case of emotional constipation that Bobby had ever come across. He knew he wasn’t anyone to point fingers in that regard, but John Winchester had really done a number on his oldest son. There were days he’d like to summon John’s spirit from wherever it had gone just so he could blast him full of iron pellets and salt. The kid didn’t even know how to let someone care about him as a friend, much less a romantic partner. He’d pull Castiel aside sometime to give a few pointers on dealing with a prickly Dean Winchester. Meantime, this was his house and he didn’t have to put up with any shit.

“Nice to know you care so much about this job,” he responded with as much sarcasm as he could muster. It was quite a lot, incidentally and he almost winced at Dean’s stricken expression. Damned Winchesters and their martyr complexes.

“I didn’t mean…” Dean started.

“I know that,” Bobby interrupted him quickly. “I just wanted you to stop moping about your marital problems, or whatever it is that has you so wound up.”

Dean’s expression went stony. “Sure,” he said flatly. “So, are we doing this then?”

Bobby suppressed the urge to growl. That wasn’t what he wanted either. Unfortunately Dean only had three emotions these days. Exuberantly, sickeningly, sappily happy, completely frustrated and angry at the whole world, or robotic stoicism. Bobby didn’t know which was worst. He glanced over at the kitchen doorway where a movement caught his eye. Castiel stood there, also stone faced and unhappy. Jesus, the pair of them were going to drive him insane.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “Let’s do this.”

The ritual was one that the hunters had performed numerous times with various demons. It was a simple matter of dropping the match into the bowl and waiting for His Royal Lowness to show up. Dean was the one wielding the flame, meaning that it was actually Dean summoning the demon. He didn’t have any real objections to this, apart from the weird thought that it might not be quite kosher, considering that he was now an angel. As he watched the sparks burn, he recalled doing the same thing the first time he’d met Castiel. The barn with all the symbols painted in it was probably still there, even though Dean had never been back. He ought to go some time. Maybe he’d mention it to Cas. He knew he should apologize for his earlier outburst. He just wasn’t sure how. Then the time for wandering thought was over. Crowley appeared in the Devil’s Trap drawn on the floor.

Crowley felt the tug of the magic on his very being. It whisked him away from his office and through the ether. It wasn’t comparable to how demons normally traveled. That was more, being one place and then being in another the next instant. Being summoned was a rushing, rollercoaster sensation. He didn’t like rollercoasters. Also, there were only a few beings on the planet that could pull it off. He would lay odds on who it was this time. He popped back into reality inside an insanely complex Devil’s Trap facing his deadliest, flannel-wearing enemies. And the angel in a trench coat, who was clutching his silver sword so tightly that his knuckles were creaking audibly.

“Hello boys. You could have just called. No need for the theatrics. Or the graffiti.” He gestured to his feet and the unusual trap that was drawn there.

“On the contrary,” the angel sneered. “That ‘graffiti’ is the only thing keeping me from sending you to oblivion right now. It was my stipulation for going forward with this summoning at all.”

“Cas, I’m flattered,” Crowley drawled. “Worried about little old me. Or, could it be that you’re worried about something else?” He turned to face the older Winchester brother and blew a kiss. “Dean, you look stunning. There’s something different about you though. No, don’t tell me. I’ll get it eventually.”

Castiel growled and took a step forward, and Crowley laughed at the protective gesture.

“Shut up, Crowley,” Bobby finally broke in. “You know why you’re here.”

“Do I? After all, it could be so many things. Perhaps Castiel here has rethought my generous offer to split Purgatory with him.” It was Dean’s turn to growl and Crowley laughed again. “No? Did you want to tell me something else Dean? I’m really offended you know. After all the help I gave you, and you didn’t even invite me to the wedding. If this is the formal announcement, I’m sure I could have read about it in the papers, same as everyone else.”

“My soul, you jackass,” Bobby interrupted. “I want my soul, like you promised me.”

“Robert, Robert, Robert. We’ve been through this, darling. It’s not in my best interests at this time.”

“Is there anything you would trade for it?” Sam finally asked, getting to the point.

“Moose, there you are. I didn’t see you over there. Are you offering yours in exchange?”

Sam just rolled his eyes at the blatant offer. Dean however, was getting more and more pissed off. He hated this smug prick and the grandstanding was getting on his nerves. He flared his wings out in aggression and stepped forward.

“No one’s soul is up for trade, dickwad,” he growled. The lights flickered briefly.

“That’s all fine and well for you to say, since you don’t have one anymore,” Crowley replied saucily. “How about you let the human folks decide that for themselves, angel boy? Unless you wanted to donate some of that nice, pretty, new Grace, Deano? Do you think Castiel will mind?”

The room started to shake and dust fell from the ceiling. Dean glanced at Cas and winced at the expression on his face. Enraged was the mildest term he could think of. “I will smite you where you stand if that is mentioned again,” Castiel rumbled menacingly.

Crowley rolled his eyes at the threat. “Of course you will,” he mock-humored the angel. “Need for me running Hell or not, was your line last time, wasn’t it? Sorry Dean, guess he minds. Too bad though. I’ve never bought an angel’s Grace before.”

“And you still won’t be getting any from Dean or me,” Cas growled. He turned to Bobby. “This is getting us nowhere. What do we know about the current hierarchy of Hell?”

“Why?” Bobby asked suspiciously.

“I want to know the ramifications of simply smiting Crowley right now. If the conditions in Hell are favorable, it would be the most prudent course of action.”

Crowley lost some of his smirk, sensing that Castiel really was not bluffing this time. The angel would truly smite him if he thought the consequences of that action were worth bearing. The demon considered that he might have finally pushed the angel over the line. Swallowing hard, just shy of a gulp, Crowley ran his finger under his collar and took a deep breath. After all, he hadn’t become King of Hell by chance.

“That is a startlingly bad idea,” he chimed in.

“Give me a good reason for that,” the angel volleyed back swiftly and flatly.

“Well, the power vacuum that would occur in Hell…”

“Is none of our concern,” Castiel interrupted. “Infighting in Hell can only be beneficial to us.”

“Quite the contrary,” Crowley refuted. “Who do you think keeps the low-level demons in check? I do. It would be utter chaos with no ruler down below. And by the way, killing me won’t solve your problem anyway. Hell would still own Bobby’s soul.”

“What?!” Bobby shouted. “You miserable, slimy bastard! You told me it was a short term loan! Are you telling me you sold my soul like some sleazy mortgage broker?”

“Who do you think the sleazy bankers got the idea from?” Crowley grinned. “Don’t worry. I retain control of your soul as long as I live. But upon my death, it gets transferred to the next ruler of Hell, whoever that may be. It’s a standard clause in all of my contracts.”

“Okay, we get it,” Sam interrupted. “Killing you for Bobby’s soul isn’t an option. Which brings us back to my original question. Is there anything you want more than Bobby’s soul, or a way we could bring about favorable conditions for its release? I mean, you keep saying that it’s not in your best interests right now. Assuming you’re not just being unreasonably obtuse about this whole situation, there must be a reason for that. Is it something we could help with?”

“Finally, someone who can properly reason and negotiate! I always forget that you were studying to be a lawyer, Moose. Pity you didn’t finish it up. Lawyers make the best crossroads demons.” Sam ground his teeth together to stop the smart remark forming at the tip of his tongue and Crowley smirked. “Anyway, yes, there is something you can help me with. I know you won’t help me out with Purgatory, but there is another matter you could look into for me. An unknown player is making deals for souls privately. I want them found.”

“That makes no sense,” Dean said. “Any deal with a crossroads demon marks the soul for Hell, right? It doesn’t matter what demon deals, the soul belongs to Hell, not the individual demon. Present company apparently excluded.”

“Precisely,” Crowley confirmed. “And even my deals say the soul belongs in Hell, not personally to me. It specifies my title and position, which is why the souls go to my successor in the event of my death. This entity simply collects souls for itself.”

“How did you find out about this?” Cas asked, concern etched in his face.

“My boys reported a few odd cases popping up. Some claimed souls, but not for Hell. I don’t know of any other power with an interest and so far, I’ve got very few leads. The one soul I did manage to get a hold of had marks on it I couldn’t even recognize, much less read. And believe me, I tried.”

“So, you tortured an innocent person then,” Dean accused, curling his lip in distaste.

Crowley simply shrugged. “Haven’t we all?” he replied.

“Is that it then?” Bobby asked. “We find this independent soul collector and get rid of it for you and in return, I get my soul back?”

“That sounds like a fair deal, doesn’t it? After all, I can’t really afford the competition. If word got around that you could sell your soul for favors without all the nasty business of going to Hell afterward, well, you can imagine the drop off in my business. So, do this for me – find and eliminate my competition and I’ll give Bobby his soul back. He can even keep his legs.”

“I want that in writing,” Bobby said.

Crowley snapped his fingers and Bobby doubled over with a groan. Castiel had his blade at the demon’s throat in an instant.

“Cas, hold up, ya idjit,” Bobby huffed as he straightened out. “I think Crowley added the new agreement to my old contract.”

“Clever old man,” Crowley said, delicately pushing away the tip of Castiel’s sword. “I’ll even show you.” He snapped his fingers again and Bobby was suddenly covered in text. “It’s on the back of his neck, if you’d like to check,” Crowley offered helpfully.

Cas squinted at Crowley suspiciously and stepped away, careful not to smudge the trap. Bobby turned around to let Cas see the script. After a moment, the angel nodded in approval.

“If that’s all, I do have things to do,” Crowley said impatiently.

“Not so fast,” Dean said. “We want whatever info you’ve got on this freak.”

“Well, I don’t have it on me. I’ll have it delivered.”

“That is acceptable,” Cas stated, and deliberately scraped his shoe across the trap.

“Thanks, Angelface. And Dean, call me if you change your mind about that Grace,” Crowley called over his shoulder. He disappeared an instant before Castiel’s sword swung into the space he’d occupied.

“I’m going to smite him once we recover your soul,” Cas stated, too calmly to be anything other than furious. “I don’t care who rules Hell after that. I want him gone.”

“I, ah, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Cas,” Sam tried to reason. “After all, no one better exemplifies that old proverb about the devil you know better than Crowley. What if the next ruler of Hell isn’t so reasonable?”

“That abomination threatened my mate, Sam, and I won’t stand for it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean broke in. “I thought we’d established that I can take care of myself, thanks.”

“But Dean…” Cas began.

Dean crossed his arms and glared. His wings postured aggressively as well, preparing for a fight. Cas shut his mouth unhappily and frowned at his shoes. Dean eyed him a moment longer, not believing for an instant that that was the end of it. But he chose to move on and focus on the new hunt.

“So, what do we know of, besides demons, that are interested in souls?”

“Old gods,” Bobby answered. “Could be the pagans are trying to take Hell down a notch. Almost a shame we gotta put a stop to it.”

“Perhaps,” Castiel mused.

“Okay. Anything else?” Dean continued. “What about Heaven? Is there any reason for the dicks upstairs to bargain?”

“No,” Cas refuted quickly. “Heaven is accessible only through merit. It would have no reason to bargain, since it wouldn’t want to be burdened with what it would see as riff raff.

“So, not Heaven,” Sam said. “It sounds like a pagan thing then.”

“Hold on,” Bobby countered, deep in thought. “Cas, you used my soul to recharge yourself once. Can all angels do that?”

“If the need is dire, yes.”

“What about an angel then? I’m not talking about Heaven, but a lone rogue angel.”

“It is an interesting theory, but since the war ended there would be no need for any of my brothers or sisters to resort to that.”

“Still, souls are power sources. Crowley said as much when he offered you half of Purgatory to kick Raphael’s ass,” Dean chimed in. “Do you know any angels who might take advantage of that?”

“None immediately come to mind,” Cas said, after a moment’s thought. “But we’ll know more once Crowley sends his information over.”

“Well, I’m getting a beer,” Bobby announced, before turning and tromping up the stairs.

“Me too,” Sam said, quickly following, leaving the awkward pair of angels to themselves.

“I think I’ll just…” Dean began.

“Dean, we need to talk about this,” Cas interrupted.

“I don’t know what more there is to say on the subject, Cas,” Dean almost growled. “You’re not willing to stop treating me like the damsel all of a sudden, and I’m not gonna put up with that shit. Come talk to me when you’re reasonable old Cas again.” And with that, he flew to the living room, leaving Cas by himself in the panic room.

“Damn it!” Cas shouted in frustration and punched the salted iron wall.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The next couple of hours were very tense, as the four men waited for Crowley’s messenger. Sam and Bobby tried to stay out of Dean and Castiel’s way, knowing they could only exacerbate the problem brewing between the couple. Dean and Castiel were also avoiding each other, which made for uncomfortable, stilted conversations from all parties. Finally, just as Dean was about to scream and possibly fly away in frustration, a knock sounded at the front door. He rushed to open it, but found no one standing there. Instead, a plain manila envelope sat on Bobby’s porch. Dean peered around for a moment, but saw no one lurking, so he quickly scooped it up and slammed the door shut again.

“Bobby, Sam, Cas!” he shouted. “We’ve got mail!” Dean absently flipped through the small stack of paper as he walked back toward the library. If Crowley wasn’t yanking them around and this really was all he had, it was no wonder he hadn’t found the guy yet. There was practically nothing here. Just the name of a town and a few vague theories.

But one page made him stop in his tracks. Crowley had written down the mark inscribed on the soul of the person he’d tortured. And Dean’s newly angelic brain easily picked out the old Enochian characters. It was an even more ancient form of the language than usual, though how Dean knew that, he couldn’t say. Hell, a few days ago all those chicken scratches looked mostly alike to him. But Enochian meant angels, so the pagan theory was probably out.

By now, Dean had been standing in the hallway for a few minutes. After his shout the other three were anxious to see what Crowley had discovered. So Castiel went in search of his mate. What he found wasn’t good. Dean’s mouth was hanging open and his golden wings were flared in surprise. He snapped both shut when he saw Castiel approaching.

“It’s official,” Dean said, a humorless smile on his face. “Your family is one hundred percent dickish.”

“What have you discovered?” Castiel was afraid of this. Angelic doings were almost always a sore spot for the hunter.

But Dean didn’t answer right away. He pushed past Castiel and into the library. Cas followed closely behind. Sam and Bobby noted the expression on Dean’s face the same as Castiel had, even if they couldn’t see his wings.

“Balls,” Bobby grunted. “It’s an angel, isn’t it boy?”

“Yep.”

“How are we going about this then?” Sam wondered aloud.

“May I see what you discovered?” Castiel reached for the file. Dean handed it over easily and watched Castiel’s face fall when he read the script.

“What does it say?” Sam asked.

“Nothing,” Castiel replied, still squinting at the page.

“C’mon, Cas, it has to say something,” Dean snorted. “Otherwise you wouldn’t look like someone just kicked your dog.”

“No, the characters are Old Enochian but they’re jibberish. Either Crowley wrote them down wrong or whoever made them wanted it that way,” Cas explained.

“Wait, an unknown entity, probably an angel, is claiming human souls and marking them with coded Old Enochian?” Sam attempted to clarify.

“That seems to be the situation, yes,” Cas responded seriously.

“That’s insane,” Dean said. “What else is in there? Can we talk to the guy?”

Cas flipped the page. “No. This person didn’t survive his encounter with Crowley. But there is another potential case listed. We could investigate that.”

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Dean asked, jumping up. “Let’s go catch this bastard!” He made a beeline for the front door, and presumably the Impala. Sam rolled his eyes but obediently followed. Cas shared a glance with Bobby, who scowled, and the angel followed the brothers out.

The ride to Easter, PA was tense, mostly silent and very uncomfortable for everyone involved. Sam and Castiel had questioned the need for the car, which earned a scowl and the silent treatment for both of them from Dean. Somewhere in Missouri, while Dean was still not talking, Sam had accused him of being childish and Dean had exploded.

“I’m not abandoning my Baby, Sam!” he exclaimed. “She’s the only thing ever, people included, that’s never let me down! She’s not disposable or replaceable, and frankly, considering that it was Baby who technically saved you from Lucifer, I think you should have a little more appreciation for her.”

Sam didn’t say anything after that either, and Cas was never the best conversationalist. So, tense, silent, and uncomfortable.

When they finally got into town, it was very late and Sam was asleep. Dean pulled up at an old hotel and rented a double room on the fourth floor. Cas transported Sam up and deposited him on the bed. He was tense and still feeling cramped from the long drive. As an angel, he was used to traveling almost instantly to anywhere on Earth or in Heaven. The car was a very slow means of travel, but any objections he might have voiced died when he heard Dean’s rant. It saddened him that his mate believed he could only depend on a piece of machinery that he himself maintained. Dean could really only rely on himself. Of course, Castiel understood the sentiment. Dean was absolutely correct in a sense. Everyone in his life had betrayed or let him down at one point or another, Castiel included. He resolved to change Dean’s opinion on this matter as soon as he could. He’d have to talk to Sam and Bobby away from Dean’s prying ears to accomplish it, but it would happen. Castiel would prove to his mate that Dean could depend on him for anything and everything.

Meanwhile, there was the case and Bobby’s soul to consider. Dean came up the stairs in human fashion, carrying a large duffel bag filled with guns, ammo, and salt. He looked at Cas, who was standing awkwardly next to the table, and then glanced at Sam, who was snoring like a freight train on the far bed. After a moment, he tossed the duffel on the other bed and began to unpack. Cas continued to stand there, not knowing what to say as Dean went about laying down the salt lines in front of the door and windows.

“You know that is unnecessary while you and I are here,” Cas finally commented, gesturing to the salt lines.

Dean’s shoulders went rigid and his wings flared minutely as he stood. “Well, we’re not gonna be in the room the whole time, Cas. And better safe than sorry. We might be angels, but we both know that angels aren’t invincible,” Dean responded tightly. “I’m not taking any chances since we’re here at Crowley’s request.”

Cas swallowed hard, seeing how his mate was distancing himself. He hadn’t had the opportunity to so much as brush against Dean for hours now and the physical separation was almost painful. Especially so, since he and Dean were still meant to be nesting right now. He tried to move closer, but Dean noticed and kept a fixed distance between them. Castiel didn’t know how he could stand it. Except, Dean had always kept himself apart as a human too. He was unfortunately used to it. Dean rarely touched people other than professionally. Casual, friendly touches were almost unheard of, even between Dean and Sam. Another thing Castiel aimed to fix if Dean would let him. He waited until Dean turned his back before flying across the room to land right in front of the hunter.

“Cas! What the Hell? Personal space, man, c’mon!” Dean groused, but didn’t back away.

So Cas grabbed him and wrapped his mate in a hug that may have been more for Castiel’s well-being than Dean’s at that point. Dean tensed for a moment, but softened when Castiel wrapped his wings around too and buried his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean hugged him back then and shuddered out a sigh. Castiel was grateful for that tiny bit of relaxation.

Not knowing what else to do, Castiel started to sing softly. “ _Please forgive me; I know not what I do. Please forgive me, if I can’t stop loving you. Don’t deny me, this pain I’m going through. Please forgive me; I need you like I do. Please believe me; every word I say is true. Please forgive me, I can’t stop loving you._ ” Cas faltered and trailed off, as he was overcome with emotion. His throat felt thick, like he might choke at any moment.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with me,” Castiel finally muttered into Dean’s neck. “I know I’m not what you would have chosen for yourself, but you are certainly what I would choose, every time.”

“Ah, Cas,” Dean sighed, tightening his arms around Castiel’s torso. “That’s not it at all. Truth be told, I _would_ choose you, man. But I’m frustrated that I didn’t _get_ to choose. You know? You of all people know how I feel about fate and destiny. I like to make it up as I go along. No big plan, making my own mistakes…”

“I understand, Dean. You have always been very independent, to the point of contrariness.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Guess that’s one way of putting it.” Dean backed away after a moment, leaving Cas cold, but it was a short lived feeling. “C’mon Cas, let’s get comfy. Even if we don’t sleep, we can still relax while Sam gets his shut eye.”

He gestured to the bed with the guns still scattered on it. They were suddenly neatly organized on the table and kitchenette counter. Dean smirked at Castiel’s hopeful enthusiasm, but shucked his outer clothes, leaving only his boxers and tee. Castiel followed suit, though he simply mojoed most of his layers away. They lay facing each other on the bed, each covered with the other’s wing until Sam woke for the day.

“Hey, lazy, up an’ at ‘em,” Sam teased, with a nudge to the mattress. “Thought you didn’t sleep anymore, anyway?”

Dean groaned and opened his eyes. As expected, Cas was staring at him.

“We do not sleep,” Cas answered. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t benefit from rest and relaxation.” He briefly curled his wing tighter around Dean and then removed it fully.

Dean smiled softly and pulled his wing back too. Sam snorted when he noticed both of their expressions.

“Dude, you guys look like the sappiest newlyweds ever right now.”

Dean ignored the fact that he had a brother entirely. “So, how’re we going about this today?”

And Sam was thankfully all business. “Well, I figured we’d start out by finding what the connection was between the dead cops and go from there.”

“Okay. So, a stop at the morgue and the police station. Which one do you want?” Dean neatly summarized, while pulling on his FBI suit.

“I’ll take the police station. You and Cas get the coroner. Maybe he’ll notice something out of the ordinary in the autopsy reports, aside from the general weirdness,” Sam decided.

Dean nodded and finished tying his boots. They rock-paper-scissor-ed for the car. Sam won, of course, but he said it was only fair since Dean and Cas had alternate transportation anyway. Once Sam was on his way, the two angels flew directly to the city morgue. The coroner on duty had no trouble remembering what cases they were talking about and was happy to provide them with reports.

They flew back to the hotel room to go through the folders. The three files were strange, to say the least and very disturbing. Dean knew he’d never seen anything quite like the cases before, though the manner of death suggested magic of some sort. He hoped the case turned out to be suped up witches or something, if only for Cas’ sake.

The first cop had basically liquefied in the locker room of the police station one morning, in full view of his partner and several other officers. There was no solid matter left of the man. Even the bone tissue had been reduced to blood and no one could explain how.

Then another officer had been found in his cruiser out at a speed trap. He was covered head to toe, inside and out with boils. It was listed as an extreme allergic reaction, but the man had no known listed allergies. It was this case in particular that screamed “witchiness” to Dean. But he wasn’t holding out a lot of hope, considering the other two.

Finally, liquid cop’s partner had been found at home with a large hole in his skull. The report listed suspected blunt trauma as the cause, but there were inconsistencies with that theory. One, where were the pieces of his skull? Two, where was all the blood such a blow to the head would cause? And three, where did the bugs inside his skull come from? Because the CSI team had recovered several large grasshoppers from inside the officer’s head, which appeared to have eaten portions of his brain. But the most telling thing was a partially scribbled out note in the margin of the file that suggested the bugs had eaten their way _out_ of the skull.

After the last file, Cas furrowed his brow in thought. “I have seen this particular combination of curses before. In fact, it is very well known.”

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Dean asked, still distracted by the disturbing crime scene photos.

“Think about it Dean; blood, boils, and locusts,” Cas prompted.

Dean thought about it for a moment as requested before it hit him. “Son of a bitch! Those are plagues of Egypt!” he finally exclaimed. “Presuming it wasn’t Chuck Heston, how does something like that happen?”

“Chuck Heston?” Cas asked. “Is he a witch I am unfamiliar with?” Dean shook his head in the way that meant Castiel had missed a pop culture reference, so he continued. “Anyway, the plagues on Egypt were controlled by a walking staff carried by Moses. It was the staff that was spelled to cause the destruction. After Moses’ death, the staff was added to Heaven’s armory and Virgil takes his weapons very seriously. We should speak to him,” Cas explained, and then grabbed Dean by the wrist.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Before he knew what was happening, or could even object, Cas had pulled him in close and beat his great wings. But there was something different about this flight than all the others he and Cas had taken. There was an unfamiliar rushing sensation as well as the feeling of punching through Saran wrap, then nothing. The dizziness hit Dean about two seconds later.

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean shouted, pushing his mate away and staggering back a few steps. “I thought we talked about this! A little warning next time? Where the Hell are we?!”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer, but a chuckle from behind him cut him off. He spun around quickly to find one of his brothers smirking at him.

Dean took one look at the unfamiliar angel, with his cocky posture, infuriating half-smile, and dove grey wings and instantly classified him as a dick. “And who the fuck is this douchebag?” Dean raved.

Castiel’s face turned bright red as the angel chuckled again. “Dean, this is my brother Virgil. He is Heaven’s Weapons Keeper. Virgil, this is my mate…”

“Dean Winchester,” Virgil interrupted. “I’m familiar with his work. He’s killed an impressive number of monsters and angels alike. A man with the right weapon for every job. I’m a fan.”

Dean’s mouth snapped shut. He wasn’t sure what to do with that. Most angels hated him on sight, just because. But Virgil stepped up to him and offered his hand to shake. Dean took it robotically. When the angel stepped back, the hunter ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck (a gesture he’d picked up from Cas when he was nervous).

“Uh, sorry about the douchebag comment earlier,” he mumbled. “Cas just surprised me with this trip and I was sort of freaking out. But, I’m glad to meet you too. Always nice to have a fan, I guess.” He glared at Cas for the lack of warning.

Virgil let out a genuine laugh. “Yes, Castiel was always more of a doer than a teller, even as a fledgling. He caused quite a lot of trouble as a young angel.”

It was Dean’s turn to smirk as Cas began to blush again. “Oh yeah?” he asked delightedly. “Always been a rebel, huh?”

“I was nothing of the sort until I met _you_ , Dean,” Cas interrupted them. “And I came to see you on business, Virgil, not so you could share humiliating stories with my mate.”

Virgil winked at Dean and mouthed, _Later_ , before asking, “Oh? What sort of business would bring you to me, Castiel? Especially without telling your mate where you were going first?”

Cas squinted, trying to decide if his brother was teasing him again, before finally answering. “We believe that the Staff of Moses is once again on Earth.”

And suddenly, Virgil was all business. “That is a serious claim. Tell me why you think that.”

So Cas and Dean explained their hunt, leaving out the bit about Crowley and Bobby’s soul.

“That is troubling,” Virgil said gravely, when they had finished. “Come with me.”

He flew off for another part of Heaven. Cas and Dean followed, although Dean shot Cas a very dirty look. They all landed in front of a very imposing building. The walls were stone and the door was a strange, iridescent metal that Dean couldn’t stop staring at.

“Adamantine,” Virgil commented. “The gates of Heaven and Hell are made from it too. Plus Lucifer’s cage and our blades. It only exists in the higher planes.”

Dean nodded. “Him the Almighty Power/ Hurl’d headlong flaming from th’ Ethereal Sky/ With hideous ruin and combustion down/ To bottomless perdition, there to dwell/ In Adamantine Chains and penal Fire,/ Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to Arms,” he quoted.

Both Virgil and Cas stopped to stare at him. Cas had that look in his eye that Dean was starting to get meant his mate was really turned on. Dean blushed.

“What? I read!” he huffed. “Just because I’m the brawn doesn’t mean I _don’t_ have a brain.”

Castiel smiled at him. “I have never doubted your intelligence, Dean, but Paradise Lost seems a bit on the nose. I was just surprised you were interested.”

Dean shrugged and shuffled his wings around bashfully. “No big deal,” he muttered, and blushed a deeper shade of red when Cas extended a wing around the hunter.

Virgil cleared his throat and the two jumped apart guiltily. “Should you two still be nesting?” he asked sincerely.

“Yes,” Castiel responded. “But this case is in regards to something more important. We decided to postpone our nesting until after it is through.” Dean’s face showed no signs of returning to his normal shade any time soon.

Virgil raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment any further. He withdrew a key the same way an angel blade was summoned to hand, and fitted it into the massive doors. They swung open with a boom and Virgil motioned for them to follow him inside.

Dean couldn’t say he was in Heaven because not only would that be cheesy, but redundant. But Heaven’s armory was amazing. He wanted to live here. Every possible weapon right from the beginning of time was hung on the walls or stood in racks on the floor. “Hey, Virgil, how do I apply for a job?” he joked.

Virgil’s face crumpled in confusion. “We are assigned tasks at our creation. We don’t apply for them. Were you not given a calling, Dean?”

“Uh, no,” Dean answered awkwardly. “Best we can tell, I don’t fit into any angelic ranks, and I don’t have a calling, or whatever. Unless you count the family business, I guess. We kind of assumed I was only an angel because Cas is and we’re mates.”

Virgil continued down an aisle, obviously thinking this over. “I don’t understand how that can be. Angels _are_ their purpose. You must have a calling.”

“I checked myself, Virgil,” Cas answered a little defensively. “Dean is one of a kind. I can only assume that Father meant him to be that way; since Dean was human to begin with and humans are made to do as they please. They have free will to make of themselves what they will, not a set purpose as we do.”

“Well, maybe Dean is the angel of free will, then. It seems appropriate,” Virgil answered, as he came to a halt in front of a locked cabinet. It looked like an ordinary rifle cabinet to Dean, though it was made of more adamantine. Virgil summoned another key and opened it. “This is the special collection,” he explained. “Holy weapons are housed here.”

“Anything obviously missing or out of place?” Dean asked seriously.

Virgil studied the contents of the box for a few moments and shook his head. “Everything seems to be in order.”

“Perhaps the staff was substituted for a fake,” Cas suggested, “to keep the theft from being immediately noticed.”

“Unlikely,” Virgil answered, but removed the staff anyway. To Dean, it looked like a gnarled old piece of wood, but Virgil handled it like a grenade as he laid it on a nearby table. He made a complicated hand motion over it while he chanted in Enochian, but nothing happened. He looked disturbed and pissed off at the same time.

“It would seem that you are correct, Castiel,” he growled. “The Staff of Moses has been stolen and replaced with a forgery. I’ll have to go through the entire collection. If someone stole this, they had access to everything else. I’ll let you know what I find. After all, if the weapons are on Earth, you will undoubtedly come across them eventually. I trust you will inform me as well, should any more turn up?”

“Of course,” Castiel agreed gravely. “Thank you, Virgil. We will see ourselves out, since you have much work to do.”

“Actually, could I speak to Dean privately for a moment,” Virgil asked.

Dean frowned and looked at Cas, who shrugged. “Sure,” Dean agreed a little warily.

“I will wait on the steps for you, Dean,” Cas said, making his way back toward the door.

Virgil waited until Castiel was out of earshot before he spoke. “How are you getting along, Dean?”

Dean frowned again. “What do you mean? With Cas? If you’re implying…”

“No, no, no. You misunderstand,” Virgil quickly interrupted. “I meant, how are you doing being an angel now? You are the talk of the Host. No one expected this. Though, come to think of it, yes, I suppose with Castiel too, now that you are mated. He is the dominant. I wondered how you and he were dealing with that.”

Dean visibly tensed. Virgil was poking at an already sore subject. “No offense, but I’m not sure that’s any of your business. I like you and all, but that’s kind of personal.”

Virgil nodded understandingly. “Is he becoming over protective? Not feeling comfortable with you doing things you have done independently for years? Smothering you?”

Dean nodded, wide eyed. Virgil had hit the nail on the head. “How…?”

“My mate did the same thing to me,” he confided. “Imagine, I had been _created_ by my Father to be Heaven’s Weapons Keeper. A job I’d done very well for eons before I was mated, if I do say so myself. And afterwards, my mate was so over protective that he was uncomfortable with me doing my job, with my very calling. It took quite some time and a few fights for him to accept that I did _not_ need his protection.”

“That’s it exactly,” Dean admitted. “I was a hunter – a human hunter, at that – for a long time before Cas even came on the scene. I know how to handle myself. And now I’m and angel, so realistically, I’m in far less danger now than I ever was. We’ve been fighting about it too. I don’t know how to get him to lighten up.”

“I understand your frustration, Dean,” Virgil continued. “But on the flip side, consider the fact that while Castiel knows you are capable, his instincts are screaming at him to take care of you in any way he can. You and he are very newly mated and you haven’t even had time to properly set up a nest yet. So, maybe go easy on Castiel for a little while. Stand up for yourself, certainly, but realize that his instincts are screaming at him to pack you away in bubble wrap. And he’s still very young by angel standards too. He’ll mature and calm down eventually.”

Dean nodded again. “Uh, thanks Virgil. I appreciate that. Um, could I… Could I come talk to you again some time when you’re not busy?” Dean blushed.

“Of course,” Virgil said. “After all, you did want to apply for a job, did you not?”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, I guess I did. I mean, I do.” He held out his hand for Virgil to shake. When the angel had clasped it in his own, Dean continued. “Thanks, man. Really.”

Virgil smiled and released him. “Of course, Dean. After all, we know it’s us submissives who are really in charge. We have to stick together.”

Dean nodded and made his way out of the armory. Cas was waiting for him on the steps, just as he’d promised.

“What did Virgil have to say?”

“He had some advice about pushy dominants,” Dean answered honestly. “Did you know that Virgil’s like me? Submissive, I mean.”

“I… I was… aware,” Cas stuttered, already understanding the point that Dean was trying to make.

“So, if Virgil, who is a total badass, by the way, can do his job properly and still be a submissive, don’t you think I’m capable of the same thing? I don’t want to fight here. I’m asking you honestly.”

Cas hung his head. “I’ve never felt that you weren’t capable, Dean. Only that I was scared I would lose you before we had a chance to really get to know each other this way. I don’t think I could handle that. I’m sorry if it has come across as doubting or undermining your abilities,” he confessed.

Dean reached for his mate and Cas quickly responded, hugging him with arms and wings. Dean hugged back and Cas all but melted against him. “Virgil said your instincts as a dominant angel were telling you to protect me at all costs. I guess his mate tried the same thing. I get it, okay. I want to keep you safe too, but dude you’ve got to lighten up. You’re just smothering me. Okay?”

“I know. And I know you won’t tolerate it. I try to stop myself, but I can’t seem to manage it just yet. Perhaps when we have finished nesting I will be better able to curb myself. But for now, will you just tell me plainly that I am being overbearing? I’ll accept that, Dean, if you’ll try not to be angry with me. Can you do that for me? I don’t like it when we fight.”

“Yeah, I can try, Cas. I’ll try really hard not to get mad at you, if you try to cool your jets. I’ll calmly call you out and you can do the same for me. I’ll just have to try and ignore Sam and Bobby. It’s them who’re making me so frustrated, anyway, constantly teasing us.”

“They love us, Dean, and family is important to both of us, whether we’d like to strangle them right now, or not. I’m sure they don’t mean to be so frustrating. I don’t think they understand the whole scope of our mating, or the added pressures on you in particular. I think we should speak to them about it after this case is through.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean finally backed away. “And now that we’ve both grown ovaries, what do you say, we get back to the hotel and give Sam the good news about the staff? Maybe he’ll have the connection between the three cops.”

Castiel smirked. “Of course, Dean. Our chick-flick moment is over. I just have one more thing to do before we go.”

Dean eyed his mate warily, recognizing the “hunting” look on his face. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“This,” Cas replied, lunging forward suddenly and planting a kiss on Dean’s mouth. Dean didn’t have time to respond before Cas winged away.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouted, but he was smiling the whole time he chased Cas back to Earth. He popped back into the hotel just seconds after Cas and tackled him from behind, fortunately landing on the bed. “So, that’s how you’re gonna play it, huh?” Dean pinned Cas down with his slightly larger frame, and caressed Cas’ wings with his own. “Well, what now, tough guy?”

Cas shot him a sly look over his shoulder before executing a physics defying move and flipped them so that Dean was on the bottom, pinned face to face with his mate. “How about that?” he asked smugly.

Dean was about to respond and call foul for use of mojo when Sam finally found his voice. “Oh my God guys! I did not ever need to see or hear any of that! Seriously?! Come on!”

Dean lifted his head to look at Sam. “Calm down, Princess, and don’t be such a prude. It’s not like we’re naked.” He stole another quick kiss from Cas, who’d frozen when Sam started shouting, and motioned for his mate to get off. Cas complied with a smile and was met with a bitch face from Sam when he turned around.

“I sort of expect that kind of thing from Dean; but _you_ Cas?” Sam whined.

“I see no reason not to expect that from me as well,” Cas responded dryly. “ _We_ are newly mated and still within our nesting period. And your brother is a very attractive angel, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head before he screwed them shut and jammed his fingers in his ears. “I don’t want to hear this,” he sing-songed.

“Oh, keep your panties on, Samantha,” Dean quipped, still lying flat on the bed. “We’ve got news.”

Sam finally opened his eyes and lowered his hands. “Yeah? Me too. You go first. What did you find?”

Dean hopped up and moved to the table. “Well, we went to visit one of Cas’ brothers in Heaven, Virgil. Dude’s actually pretty cool. Heaven’s Weapons Keeper. He manages the armory, and Sammy, I wish you could see this place! It’s amazing. He’s got every weapon you could ever think of, and more…”

“Dean, you’re getting off topic,” Cas interrupted, just a tiny bit jealous.

Dean didn’t even notice. “Oh, right, anyway, Cas recognized the murdered cops as being done by the Staff of Moses. Blood, boils and locusts, you know? So we visited Virgil, to confirm, because that weapon should be locked up tight. And it turns out it _was_ stolen and whoever did it left a fake in its place. Virgil was _not_ happy. He wants it back when we find it,” Dean explained.

“Any reason he’s not helping us find it if he’s the Weapons Keeper, or whatever?” Sam asked sourly.

“Dude, he’s making sure nothing else was stolen. And the armory is bigger than you can imagine. He’s got a huge job ahead of him. But he did promise to tell us what else is missing if he finds anything. So cut the guy a little slack,” he defended his new friend.

Sam was taken aback at Dean’s vehement defense of Virgil. The angel must have made a really good impression if Dean didn’t automatically lump him in with the other winged dicks. “Okay, geez,” he finally said. His lack of teasing his brother over his new man-crush was his apology and Dean recognized it as such with a nod, so Sam continued. “Anyway, I found the connection between these three particular cops.” He gestured to the file spread out on the table. “They were all involved in a shooting case.”

“Not unusual for cops, is it?” Dean asked.

“No, but this one was off and drew some publicity. They were cleared of any wrong-doing, but it still smelled bad, from what I read.”

“How so?” Cas questioned.

“Well, these three cops were all involved in the shooting death of a young black man and when their statements were taken, they all said the same thing,” Sam explained.

“So? Their stories match. What of it?” Dean was getting irritated at Sam for drawing this out.

“No, Dean. Not just matched. Their statements were _exactly_ the same. Same wording and everything, like it had been rehearsed. And the kid had no prior police record, but all three swore he drew a gun at a routine traffic stop. The boy’s father made a big deal of it, but the judge ruled in favor of the officers,” Sam finally explained clearly.

“Oh, that makes more sense.” Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, dirty cops shoot the boy, plant the gun, and give the same statement. So dad, who gets no justice, sells his soul for some sort of revenge. Lucky him, it wasn’t to a demon, but it does somehow involve the Staff of Moses.”

“Bingo,” Sam stated glumly.

“We got an address for the family?” Sam nodded. “Damn, this sucks all the way around. Dirty cops got what they deserved, but the killer sold his soul for it after his son was murdered. Just so happens that the murder weapon is a piece of Heaven’s arsenal that has been stolen, probably by an angel. And to top it all off, Crowley wants us to kill said angel to get Bobby’s soul back. Can’t we catch a break on this one?” Dean ranted.

The other two members of Team Free Will didn’t have any answers for him.

“Well, let’s go and get this over with, I guess,” Sam said after a moment. “Are you flying or taking the car?”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, then grabbed his wrist, same as Cas had done to him earlier. Sam realized what was happening a split second too late and his eyes widened in horror.

“Dean, no!” he tried to protest, but Dean had already beat his wings and aimed for the murdered boy’s house. Cas rolled his eyes and followed a moment later.

When they landed on the sidewalk, Sam jerked himself away from Dean, who smirked at the sick look on his brother’s face.

“What the Hell, man?” Sam gasped.

“Wassa matter, Sammy? Don’t trust me?” Dean teased. Sam glared. “Don’t ask again if we’re driving or flying if you’re not prepared for both,” Dean stated blandly. Sam’s bitch face was epic. Score one for the older brother.

Sam turned to Cas. “Control your mate, would you?” he snarked.

Cas turned bright red when he glanced at Dean, who had raised an eyebrow in anticipation of Cas’ answer. “Ah,” Cas stammered. “That is not in my purview as his mate. Your sibling quarrels are your own to fight.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Nice tap dancing there, Cas,” he said dryly.

Cas looked at his shoes and then to Dean for clarification of that particular idiom, but Dean only grinned and winked. Cas knew he was not in trouble with his mate again, and silently breathed a sigh of relief.

“Shall we?” Dean said, gesturing to the house.

The trio mounted the steps to the porch and rang the bell. A young boy answered the door.

“Hello?” the kid greeted cautiously. “Can I help you?”

Dean flipped out his badge. “We’re Agents Page, Plant, and Nash with the FBI. Is your father home?”

The boy looked at Sam and Cas suspiciously, so they flipped out their badges too. His mind was eased and he opened the door a little wider. “He’s not home right now. What did you need to talk to him about?”

“Actually, it’s about your brother,” Sam said. “Your father wasn’t the only one who disputed the good shoot ruling, and we’re looking into it.”

“You are?” the kid asked eagerly. “That’s great!”

“Yeah, unfortunately, all three cops already died under suspicious circumstances,” Dean explained. “We’d like to talk to your father about it.”

Abruptly, the boy looked nervous and angry when just moments before he’d been happy at the prospect of a new investigation. Alarm bells started ringing in all three men. Dean glanced at Cas, who nodded in understanding.

“What’s your name?” Cas finally asked.

“Aaron. Aaron Birch,” he said.

“Well, Aaron, we thought your father may have had something to do with these deaths, but now we think differently,” Cas said.

Aaron looked instantly relieved. “Yeah, he had nothing to do with those officers’ murders. They got what they deserved anyway.”

“And just how did you know the officers were murdered?” Sam asked sharply. “We only said they died under suspicious circumstances. Is there anything you’d like to tell us, Aaron?”

Aaron sagged against his door frame. “What are you going to do to me?” he asked quietly.

“Can we come in and talk?” Dean asked.

Aaron reeled away from the door, but left it open. All three men filed inside after him. Cas shut the door behind him and found Dean and Sam already seated across from Aaron. He moved to stand behind them.

“Just tell us what happened, Aaron,” Sam coaxed gently.

“You won’t believe me,” Aaron sniffed.

“Try us,” Dean deadpanned. If he had a dime for every time a witness had said that to him…

“Well, those cops shot my brother and got away with it,” Aaron started to explain. “And my dad was just so angry and sad. He called all the papers and the TV news stations, but nobody cared. All he did was sit and read all the lies they’d told about my brother. So I prayed for help, and it worked.”

“How so?” Cas asked calmly.

“A guy showed up. He said he was an angel, but he didn’t look like any angel out of a book. He was kinda weird, actually. But he promised he could help me. I just had to pay him.”

“What did he want?” Dean asked, knowing full well what Aaron was going to say.

“He wanted my soul,” Aaron said sheepishly. “I know it was probably wrong of me, but the guy was an angel, so I didn’t see the harm.”

“And what did he give you in return? His promise of vengeance on your behalf?” Cas asked.

Aaron looked startled. “No. He gave me this old stick. I thought he’d tricked me at first until I saw those cops had died. I don’t know what it is, but it works.”

“May I see it?” Cas asked gently.

Aaron nodded and went to retrieve it. He came back with about a foot of gnarled old wood.

Cas frowned. “Where is the rest of it?”

“What? That’s all he gave me, I swear!” Aaron exclaimed. “Here! You can have it!” He thrust the piece of wood in Cas’ direction. Cas took it very gingerly and put it in his coat pocket.

“Virgil is _not_ going to be happy about this,” Cas muttered.

Aaron looked at all three of them, wide eyed. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“That depends on you, kid,” Dean answered. “Did the angel happen to tell you his name?”

“No,” Aaron answered morosely. “Am I going to jail?”

Dean ignored the question and turned to Cas. “Any way to tell which angel bought his soul?”

“Yes, the living mark will be much easier to read than Crowley’s transcription from the other victim. But the reading will be painful for Aaron,” Cas admitted. They all looked at Aaron, who was getting suspicious again.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Am I in trouble, or not?”

Dean sighed. “You’ve seen the X-Files, right kid?” he asked. Aaron nodded dubiously. “Well, we’re members of the real life X-Files division, more or less,” he explained. “We track down supernatural criminals instead of human ones. We’re more interested in the angel that sold you the piece of wood than we are you. You’re not really even in our jurisdiction,” Dean spouted, ignoring the WTF face Sam was making. Dean decided to go big. “In fact, Agent Nash and I are angels too. He can read your soul for the mark of ownership the other angel left.”

“Prove it,” Aaron challenged, back to being one hundred percent suspicious. Cas flashed the shadows of his wings, and Dean mentally drooled again. But Aaron was obviously convinced. “Okay,” he agreed meekly. “Do whatever you need to do. I’m ready.”

Cas moved forward and touched the boy’s forehead. He collapsed back on the couch. Cas rolled up his sleeve and pushed the boy’s t-shirt out of the way. He gently pressed his hand and grace into Aaron’s body to touch his soul. Aaron immediately started writhing and moaning even though he was unconscious. Dean winced, but Cas was already drawing his hand out. His face was a picture of sadness and betrayal.

“Did you find it?” Sam asked, like an over-eager puppy.

“No,” he said. “There must be some mistake.”

“Cas, it’s not like the angels have the best track record, you know,” Dean said impatiently, annoyed that after everything Cas was still defending the dick squad.

“That is not in dispute,” Castiel snapped. “My issue here is that this angel was a friend of mine who perished in the war against Raphael.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Dean said, feeling like a heel. Castiel nodded in acceptance, but he still looked so sad that Dean couldn’t help but stroke one of his wings down Castiel’s. Cas returned the gesture and tried to smile, but he still looked like a kicked puppy. _Just how close was this friend?_ Dean wondered to himself, an ugly hint of jealousy raising its head. “Is there any way to fake that kind of mark?” he asked gently.

“No. There is no way for a claim like that to be faked,” Cas admitted glumly.

“Who was it?” Dean asked, rubbing Cas’ back.

“My brother Balthazar,” Cas replied softly. “We were very close as fledglings. He is the angel closest to me in age. I mourned his passing very deeply.”

Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders in sympathy and support.

“Guys,” Sam interrupted. “Sorry I’ve got to be the practical one here, but what do we do about Aaron?” He gestured to the unconscious boy on the couch.

“I’ll wipe his memory of our encounter and Balthazar’s,” Cas decided, touching his forehead again. “It’s done. Let’s go.”

Dean reached for Sam again, who quickly backed away. “Uh, Cas, any chance you could do the flying?” Dean smirked and disappeared. Sam rolled his eyes and braced for flying with Cas.

Once they were all back in the hotel room, Dean started pacing. “So, what are we going to do about this?” he asked the room at large. “Crowley won’t just accept our word that we convinced this Balthazar to stop dealing in souls. If we even can convince him. Crowley wants his competition dead, and since that idea is a non-starter, Bobby’s soul is pretty much screwed.”

“We must call Virgil, if nothing else, and inform him of our progress,” Cas answered. He closed his eyes and adopted his “angel radio” face, as Dean called it, for a moment. The next, Virgil was in the room.

“That was fast,” he said, surprised.

“Sort of,” Dean hedged.

“Well, do you have the staff or not?” Virgil asked.

Cas drew the piece out of his coat pocket and offered it to his brother. Virgil accepted it, but looked dumbfounded. His mouth hung open in shock.

“What… what happened to the rest of it?” he asked with trepidation.

“We are unsure as of yet,” Cas answered. “But we felt it best you have the piece we did recover for safe keeping.”

Virgil cleared his throat. “Yes, well, any information on the thief?”

“It was Balthazar,” Cas confessed reluctantly. “We’re trying to find a way to track him now. But we’ll keep you updated as we promised. Any news for us?”

Now Virgil looked very troubled. “Balthazar!” he spit. “I should have known. I know you and he were very close, Castiel, but I never enjoyed his company. He was always a little too cavalier about his weapons for my liking. Constantly losing them and requisitioning a new one. He didn’t like me much either. I can only assume that’s why he broke into the armory. I’m sure there’s more, but I also discovered the artifact that turned Lot’s wife to salt was replaced as well. So be careful. Who knows what he’s capable of now.”

Cas nodded and Virgil flew away.

Sam was a bit stunned. “That was Heaven’s Weapons Keeper?” he asked numbly.

“What were you expecting, Sammy?” Dean asked. “A giant, armed to the teeth?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam admitted. “He just seemed so average.”

“You are still judging us by our vessels, Sam,” Cas corrected. “And while Virgil is of average size for an angel, he is a fierce warrior. Just like your brother.”

“Ooookayyy,” Sam drawled, knowing he had missed something about that last comment, but not demanding an explanation. These days, it usually ended up that he didn’t want to know. He turned to Dean, who was a bit pink, but grinning bashfully and decided that he was a genius for not asking. It could only have to do with Dean’s love life and Sam wanted no part of that.

“Anyway, how do we find an angel in hiding?” Dean asked, getting them back on topic for once.

“There may be a spell, but we’ll have to go back to Bobby’s to perform it. He should have all the necessary ingredients,” Cas answered.

“Okey dokey,” Dean said, and turned to pack. But Cas was ahead of him. He’d once again packed away the ammo and guns into the Impala and cleaned the room with a thought. “Have to teach me that,” Dean muttered, and Cas smirked. Sam made himself scarce and went to check out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The drive back to Bobby’s was much easier on everyone than the trip to Pennsylvania had been. Dean sang along to Led Zepplin and Metallica the entire trip, until Cas had requested he put in the Bryan Adams tape. Dean had complied instantly and practically radiated happiness. Sam snoozed in the back seat and Cas rode shotgun, occasionally holding his mate’s hand as he drove. Because he needed no sleep, Dean drove straight through; only stopping for gas and so Sam could eat and/or relieve himself.

They made it back to Bobby’s in what seemed like no time. Bobby greeted them on the porch as they drove up. They’d called from the road to update him and he wasn’t very happy with the news. Not that Dean blamed him for that, of course. It was his soul in the balance after all.

“Well, this was a fine wasted trip,” he groused at them, as they climbed the stairs.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dean responded quickly. “We found out who was dealing in souls and solved our case, plus made a new ally. I’d call that a well spent trip.”

“You’ll forgive me if I disagree on that point, Dean,” Bobby said over his shoulder as he led them all through the house into the library. “I’m happy you made a new friend, but it doesn’t really do much for the ultimate goal of the mission, now does it?” Bobby continued to grump.

Dean looked crestfallen and Cas saw his wings slump in defeat. Dean went back outside to fetch his bags from the Impala and Cas let the older man have it.

“Robert, I appreciate that this is a difficult situation for you, but in any other circumstances, this hunt would have been a big win for Dean and Sam. It _was_ a big win for Dean especially, since he got to know another angel in a similar position to his; one he likes and respects and who does the same to him. Do _not_ take that from him. We _will_ find a way find a way to liberate your soul, even if it means I must stage another rescue from Hell. Dean is also dealing with quite a lot right now and neither you nor Sam are really helping the situation. So I _suggest_ you find a way to make up for your attitude when Dean comes back in.” Cas finished slightly out of breath, and Sam looked like a deer in headlights.

Bobby glared at the angel who’d dared to call him out in his own house, but ultimately softened when he saw just how much Dean’s mood had fallen. He was deliberately kicking up dust in Bobby’s front yard as he came back in. It was a habit he’d had since childhood, when John would scold him for whatever John’s problem had been that day. When the screen door banged shut behind Dean, and he re-emerged into the study, Bobby clasped his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that, Dean,” he genuinely apologized. “That wasn’t real fair of me, just now. You boys all did a great job on this one. I’m just worried about what Crowley is going to say and taking it out on everyone else.”

Dean looked surprised, but nodded and smiled in acknowledgement.

Bobby nodded at Cas and left the room. Sam quickly followed him out.

“That was weird,” Dean commented, relaxing as Cas brushed a hand through his feathers affectionately.

“Not really. Bobby knows the value of making allies, especially ones like Virgil. I’m sure he’s just concerned for his soul and frustrated right now,” Cas answered.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his mate. “You said something to him.”

“Perhaps,” Cas conceded. “But it was nothing he didn’t already know.”

“Thanks Cas,” Dean murmured.

Cas kissed his temple. “Of course, Dean.”

Dean shoved playfully at Cas for that. “Ugh! Get away from me, you sap!” he exclaimed in mock outrage, though Cas could only laugh when Dean left his wing in reach of Castiel’s massaging fingers. The two smiled at each other and followed their family into the kitchen. Bobby already had most of the ingredients for the spell laid out.

Cas nodded his appreciation and got to work, quickly drawing the chalk lines of the spell on the table. Next, he dropped the myrrh into a metal mixing bowl and poured holy water on top. He swirled it a couple of times before reaching for the knife. Bobby knew what was coming next and extended his arm. Cas made an expert cut and mixed his blood in the bowl as well. A quick chant and the spell was done. Cas knew where his brother was hiding.

“Are we all going?” he asked. Three determined faces looked back at him. “Very well. Dean, you take Bobby. I’ll take Sam. When we get there, let me do the talking. We were very close once. I may be able to reason with him.”

Bobby and Sam nodded, but Dean looked mutinous. That would have to do. They landed (Bobby gasping and wheezing) in the yard of a very large house. Loud music was playing somewhere inside. Cas led the way upstairs to a room filled with music and flashing lights. He shut them off with a gesture.

“Balthazar,” he called. “I know you are here. Show yourself.”

And then a man, presumably Balthazar, was standing by the piano. “Cassie!” he called cheerily, in an obnoxious British accent. He waved his glass of booze at them. “It is so good to see you, brother!” He practically skipped down the stairs and went to hug Castiel. He also extended his wing out to touch Castiel in the process.

“Stop right there, dickwad,” Dean growled territorially, his wings mantling possessively behind his back.

Balthazar blinked, like it was the first time he’d noticed the other three people in the room and grinned at Cas. “And mated, too. Didn’t think you had it in you, Cassie. Who is this feisty submissive?” He looked Dean up and down appreciatively.

It was Castiel’s turn to growl. “You will be respectful of my mate, Balthazar. And I know you know who he is. You helped me rescue him from Hell.”

Balthazar’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “I _have_ been away too long. Dean, I hardly recognized you through the shine of Grace. Congratulations, both of you,” he backpedaled furiously.

“It is because you’ve been “away” that we are here, Balthazar,” Cas scolded. “What are you doing here, brother?”

“Whatever the Hell I bloody want!” Balthazar retorted quickly, taking a sip from his glass.

“But you faked your death,” Cas pressed. “I mourned you.”

Balthazar finally had the good grace to look ashamed of himself, if only for a moment. “Yes, well, it was getting a mite hairy there at the end. No offense Cas, but I really didn’t think you’d be top dog in that fight.”

“So you deserted your brother to save your own hide?” Dean demanded angrily. “That’s just low, man.”

“And just what do you think would have happened to Castiel’s closest brother had Raphael won the war? I would have been plucked and left to hang on the Gates as an example and warning to others,” Balthazar snapped back, just as angry and now defensive.

“That still doesn’t explain why you never revealed yourself after,” Cas said patiently. “Or why you stole weapons from the armory.”

“Oh, that,” Balthazar laughed nervously. “Well, I’d gotten used to doing my own thing down here and Virgil can always use taking down a peg or two. Bloody asshole, that one – just because I lost a few blades.”

“He happens to be a friend of mine,” Dean growled again.

“Figures,” Balthazar muttered. “Like always finds like. Anyway, I’m not going back. And there’s nothing you can say to convince me otherwise.”

“Whatever, douchebag,” Dean replied. “Except for Cas, we don’t really care about that right now. You can stay gone. Just return the weapons to Virgil. Or tell us who you sold them to.”

Balthazar turned pale. “Sold? I… don’t know what you mean.”

Cas started to speak, but Dean interrupted. “Shut it. We found Aaron Birch. He had your mark on his soul in coded Old Enochian. Nice try, but we figured it out. And you’re going to give that kid and everyone else you made a deal with their soul back.”

“Well, bully for you,” Balthazar snarked. “I’ll give the humans their souls back, but Virgil is getting nothing. Those weapons are my insurance policy.”

“Against what?” Cas asked. “The war is done and over with. Heaven is at peace for the first time in ages. No one cares if one angel from the garrison is out on his own. Most think you dead, anyway.”

“Yes, and I’d like to keep it that way. If it had been anyone but you, Cassie, I would have already used one of those weapons and been on my way.”

“What happened to you, Balthazar?” Cas asked sadly. “You were an honorable soldier and a good friend.”

“I saw what they did to you, Castiel,” Balthazar answered desperately. “You were the best of us, and they sent you to be re-educated for defending your mate. I’m not strong enough for that anymore, Castiel. And that was a best case scenario. You had Dean to hold on to and keep yourself sane through that. I don’t have that anymore, in case you forgot.”

Cas nodded. “I haven’t forgotten. I can’t imagine your devastation after Josiel was killed, but do you think she’d want this for you?”

Balthazar looked pained; almost like he was going to cry. “Don’t you dare, Cassie,” he breathed. “Don’t use her memory like that.”

“Give me the weapons and we’ll let you leave in peace. Virgil already knows you live, but I swear I won’t tell anyone else,” Cas said gently. “You would, of course, be welcome to visit me.” Bobby coughed pointedly. “But perhaps some advance notice would be appreciated. I’m often with Bobby and the Winchesters at his home. They tend to shoot first.”

Balthazar hung his head and pulled a key from his pocket. He tossed it at Cas and sighed. “There you are. That opens a locker at the Portland bus station that I have specially modified. Virgil’s precious weapons are there. And Cassie, don’t come looking for me again. I’m careful not to lose my blade now.” And with that, he was gone.

Cas slumped wearily. Bobby and Sam stayed where they’d been the whole time, against the wall, but Dean reached over to hug his mate.

“Hey, I’m sorry it went down like that,” Dean said softly. “I know you were close once.”

Cas sagged into his mate’s side, taking comfort from Dean’s lean form and soft, warm wings. “Thank you, Dean. Losing his mate took a lot out of him. I don’t know what I’d do either, if the situation was reversed.” He straightened after a moment. “I should get this to Virgil. Can you handle flying everyone home?”

“Of course, Cas,” Dean said. “Take your time. I’ll be at Bobby’s in the spare room when you get back.”


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

It was very late when Cas finally got back from helping Virgil deal with all of the weapons in the bus locker. Virgil had been very pleased, but Cas couldn’t feel anything but sad.

Sam and Bobby had already gone to bed when he materialized into the spare room he and Dean were using as a nest. Dean was sprawled over most of the bed. A book was over his face, and though Castiel knew he didn’t sleep, the hunter was doing a very good imitation of it. Dean’s limbs were loose and relaxed; his breathing was deep and regular. Cas simply looked at him for a long moment, noting he was back in his boxers and t-shirt.

“Cas, we’ve talked about this,” Dean said, startling the angel. “Watching someone sleep – or whatever – is creepy.”

“My apologies, Dean,” Cas murmured. “But you looked so relaxed. I didn’t want to disturb you. Seeing Balthazar today, and what he’s become after losing Josiel has affected me more than I realized. I don’t know if I would become the same bitter, angry angel if I lost you.”

Dean finally moved, and took the book off his face. He squinted at Cas in the low light before rolling onto his side and patting the bed. “C’mon Cas,” he said. “Relax with me a while.”

Castiel smiled at his mate and began to strip in human fashion. Dean watched him the whole time, with heavy lidded eyes roaming his skin every time another bit was exposed. Castiel smelled a faint odor of wing oil and knew his mate was aroused by the slow strip tease, unintentional though it might be. He’d have to undress like this more often. He finally matched Dean’s state of dress and sat on the side of the bed. He slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. The mattress shifted as Dean moved behind him, but he was still surprised to feel Dean’s chest pressed against his back and wings.

“Talk to me, Cas,” Dean requested, leaning his forehead against the back of Cas’ head. He threaded his arms under Cas’ wings and loosely hugged him around his middle. A soft kiss followed to the back of his neck.

Castiel leaned back into Dean, who accepted his weight and tightened his arms slightly. “I’m not sure there’s much to discuss,” he said sadly. “My brother is hurting and didn’t think he could come to me.”

Dean kissed him again, this time on top of his head and shifted so that his hands could massage Castiel’s wings. “I know how much that sucks,” he finally said. “But I’ve been on both sides of it. And as much as it sucks from your side, I know Balthazar is struggling. It’s not exactly the same, but when I got back from Hell, all Sam wanted to do was talk about it. I wanted nothing to do with it, but eventually, he practically forced me to. I hated it at the time, but I did feel better afterward. So I’d say give him his space for now, but eventually Balthazar will be ready to talk and you’ll be there. It might take trapping him in holy fire to keep him there, but I’ll help you with that if you need me to. For now, let me help you forget for tonight.

Dean slid his fingers deep into Castiel’s feathers and Cas couldn’t help but moan softly. His mate’s touch was somehow soothing and arousing at the same time. It was also as far as they’d gone in the bedroom. Dean’s nervousness had stopped them every time before this, except for that first fumble in North Carolina. Cas understood and hadn’t pushed.

“Dean, are you sure?” Cas asked quietly.

Dean pulled away and Cas regretted his words. He knew Dean only did what he meant to do. But his regret was premature.

“Lay down on your front, Cas,” Dean instructed.

Castiel complied with his mate’s request and stretched out slowly with his face pressed into the pillows. But his muscles still felt tense, and only got tighter when Dean climbed back on the bed and sat on his thighs.

“Shh,” Dean said. “I’m going to give you a massage. You kind of need to unclench for that,” he teased lightly.

Castiel instantly relaxed, now that his dominant instincts were reassured. It shamed him slightly that that was his reaction. Especially considering Dean’s feelings about the whole issue. But until their bond was fully established, which wouldn’t occur until they actually had sex and combined their Graces, Castiel didn’t think he’d be able to let go enough to be the receiving partner. Perhaps sometime down the road when he and Dean were fully comfortable with their roles… He heard the click of a bottle cap and it dragged him back to the present.

“Can you mojo out of your clothes?” Dean asked.

Castiel heard him rubbing oil between his hands, warming it probably, and easily complied. The subtle scent of Dean’s wing oil once again perfumed the air, mixing with the massage oil on his hands. Castiel relaxed further.

“I’m going to start with your lower back,” Dean warned before touching him.

Dean started with long, firm strokes to spread out the oil, then concentrated on the area just above the swell of Castiel’s behind, occasionally straying down the firm globes. Castiel suspected those strokes were more for Dean than him, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. The pressure on his lower back gradually increased as Dean focused more on the massage, until the muscles there were as loose as they could get.

Dean moved up his back, following that same pattern, until it seemed like Castiel would be asleep, if he was capable. Then Dean focused his attentions on Castiel’s wings and Cas nearly lost it. Dean hit sweet spot after sweet spot that Castiel hadn’t even known were there. All the while, Dean hummed as he delicately straightened the feathers in each section, when he was done turning the muscles underneath to putty. He gently untangled a few and even pulled two or three dead ones. The oil still lingering on Dean’s fingers gave his plumage a shine he hadn’t experienced in a long time. There were several groans released, drawn deep from Castiel’s chest to encourage his mate and express how good a job he was doing. He was so out of it, that it took several long minutes to figure out that Dean was humming a song, not just a random melody. He listened more closely and smiled to himself. Dean was humming _Heaven_ and Castiel couldn’t agree more.

Dean finally finished his wings and moved to Castiel’s legs. Cas missed the warmth of his mate’s body on him then. It was stupid of him to be anxious earlier. Dean’s body was better than Heaven, no matter how it was touching him. When Cas’ toes had gotten their individual treatment, Dean tapped him on the hip.

“Hey, can you roll over for me?” he asked.

Cas grunted, but complied. He looked up at his mate adoringly and Dean laughed softly.

“Dude, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d been switched with the druggie version of you I met in Zach’s 2014. You look so stoned right now, and uh,” Dean glanced down at Cas’ hips, “very grateful.”

Cas glanced down too, almost surprised at the erection he sported. But he was feeling so good right now, he didn’t even have the capacity for embarrassment. It wasn’t needed between them anyway.

“I _am_ grateful,” he murmured. “I’m grateful you are my mate, and I thank my Father for it every day, whether he is listening or not. You are amazing, Dean. Beautiful inside and out.”

“Alright, Romeo,” Dean laughed, bending down to kiss him.

Castiel got to watch this time as Dean pampered his muscles; spreading oil on his body until he glistened in the moonlight. Castiel’s gaze never left Dean as he concentrated on his self-appointed task. Dean mirrored what he’d done on Castiel’s back, but he paused in between muscle groups this time to kiss Cas softly. When his whole body had been touched and loved, except for that one most intimate part, Dean paused again for a searing, brain melting kiss. Cas had not reached his climax, though he dribbled nearly constantly, so he was hard as ever.

As Dean pulled away from his mouth, Cas dredged up just enough strength to gently lay his hand on the back of Dean’s head, preventing him from moving. “You don’t have to do anything else,” he whispered, staring into Dean’s eyes. The green was washed out by the pale light filtering into the room, but they were no less beautiful. “I love you. I hope you know that,” Cas added seriously, eyes moist.

Dean smiled and leaned down directly over Castiel’s ear. “I know,” he said, gently breathing the words into Castiel’s ear. He pulled back a bit to look into Cas’ face. “Let me help you with this. I want to.”

A small tear did make its way out of the corner of Cas’ eye and into his hair as he nodded. Dean gripped him, loosely at first, testing his weight. Then he grew bolder and tightened his hand while pumping it up and down. He gave a little twist of his wrist at the top of every stroke, that had Cas grunting in time. Finally, Dean’s other hand trailed down to gently caress his balls in time with that little twist and Castiel was done.

“Dean!” he gasped, looking into his mate’s beautiful face as his come bubbled out of him, over Dean’s fist, and splattered on his stomach. He was left feeling dizzy and boneless afterward when Dean got up to fetch a washcloth.

After the clean up, Dean coaxed him back into a pair of boxers and then snuggled into Castiel’s chest. Cas wrapped an arm around him and Dean spread his wings to cover them both. Castiel kissed his forehead.

“Would you like me to reciprocate?” he finally asked.

“Nope,” Dean said. “Tonight was for you. You can repay the favor some other time.”

They lay there in the dark for quite a while before Dean spoke again, though he didn’t move, and ended up talking into Castiel’s collar bone.

“I know I’m difficult,” he stated. Cas started to protest, but Dean simply put a finger on his lips. “Hush. Let me finish. I know I’m difficult. I’m too independent and you worry that I’m going to bite off more than I can chew. But consider this; I’ve got you now. Am I still going to be a little reckless? Sure. But I know I can’t do anything to seriously put myself in danger anymore because you depend on me as much as I depend on you. I can’t promise that nothing will ever happen to me. That’s just the nature of our lives. But I can promise that I’ll never leave you without a fight. Okay? I’ll fight as hard as I can every time to come back to you.”

Castiel shifted and rolled them so they were facing each other. He wrapped his dark wings around them and snuffled into the hollow of Dean’s throat. Dean gently ran his hand up and down Cas’ back under his wings and neither said any more that night.

But Cas’ mind was eased. Balthazar’s spiral had affected him greatly. They were similar ages and had similar experiences. Their personalities differed, but Castiel couldn’t help thinking about what he’d do in Balthazar’s situation. It scared him to think of Dean gone, but even more so because he knew he’d burn down Creation in his attempts to get him back. The alternate universe he’d glimpsed, full of Leviathan, and posing as God, he’d done that to spare Dean any pain. At least at first. He’d have absolutely no boundaries should Dean truly be lost to him.

But here and now, Dean was safe, warm, and content curled against him as they rested. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, and they would undoubtedly argue in the future. But Castiel could face them, reassured by Dean himself that his mate would never give up on them.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The sun rose on them to start a new day but both angels were so content to be exactly where they already were that neither moved until Sam pounded on the door.

“C’mon guys,” he called. “Please don’t make me come in there and scar myself for life,” he pleaded. “Bobby wants to summon Crowley A.S.A.P. to tell him what happened.”

They listened to his steps on the creaky stairs until he got to the bottom.

“Guess we’d better make an appearance,” Dean finally mumbled.

Cas said nothing and nuzzled further into Dean’s neck, unhappy that he’d once again have to leave his nest early. The movement startled a giggle from the hunter. Dean quickly stifled it, but Cas picked his head up to look at him in wonder mixed with a lot of mischief.

“Cas, no,” Dean warned, trying to untangle himself. But it was too late. Cas knew his secret. “Don’t! I’m warning you!” Dean gasped, squirming around as Cas tried to tickle him. He finally hit upon the back of Dean’s knees and Dean’s laughter came tumbling out involuntarily. “Cas! Damn it, you bastard!” he shouted in between gales of laughter, but there was none of the malice that Dean usually poured into that kind of language.

Cas kept tickling the back of his mate’s knees, making him kick and buck until Dean was gasping for breath. When he judged that Dean had had enough, he gentled his touches so that Dean could calm himself. When he was still once more, Cas stretched out and looked down at him lovingly. Dean smiled up at him and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck, tugging him down for a kiss. Cas went eagerly. Their lips played over each other’s for a moment before Dean broke it off to trail kisses to Cas’ earlobe.

“Remember, payback is a bitch,” he breathed, with a final nip to Cas’ jaw. Then he pushed Cas away and stood from the bed.

Cas flopped back into the pillows, grinning as he watched Dean collect his clothes. He gently ran his wingtip along Dean’s when he got close enough and Dean wrinkled his nose at him. It was adorable, though Castiel had more self-preservation instincts than to say that out loud. “You are stunningly attractive,” is what he finally did say, gazing at Dean’s wings.

Dean blushed. “Hey, eyes up here, buddy,” he responded playfully, gesturing with two fingers to his eyes. “Now c’mon, man. I know I blew your mind last night, but Bobby wasn’t joking about that banishing sigil the other day. Get dressed.”

He threw Cas’ pants at the bed. They landed on his face, followed shortly by his white dress shirt, as Dean exited the room. He removed them and sighed, folding his arms behind his head. He wasn’t sure if his smile would ever leave him. But with Dean gone, Cas could finally think. While he’d still been in the room, his dominant instincts had been preening and crowing about how attractive his mate really was, and congratulating him on snaring such a prize. Plus, the intimacy they had shared the night before still had him metaphorically floating anyway. It was encouraging that Dean had initiated things between them.

Sluggishly, his muscles still feeling loose and amazing, he dressed in human fashion, layering himself for battle once more. Every piece of clothing he pulled on seemed to clear his head as well, though nothing dampened the happiness. When his shoes were tied and his trench coat was in place, he was once again the soldier he presented to the world. He flew down to the kitchen, where he could feel his family gathered.

Dean was shoveling in eggs and bacon when Cas popped into the room. Sam and Bobby jumped, even though they should be used to it by now. But Dean only looked up and gestured to the empty place setting with his fork. Castiel slid into the seat and picked up a piece of bacon to be polite. He wasn’t really fond of food, except for cheeseburgers, but bacon was acceptable. Dean smiled at his mate and took a gulp of coffee.

Bobby finished his bite and looked around the table. “Well, now that we’re _all_ here, does anyone have any suggestions before we summon Crowley again?”

“We’ll just have to tell him the situation,” Sam said. “We found the culprit, and he won’t be buying any more souls. But we won’t kill an angel for that without cause.”

“Crowley will not accept those terms,” Castiel said. “Bobby’s contract specifically states that we must kill the competition in order for Bobby’s soul to be released. Our word of Balthazar’s future behavior, even if we could guarantee it, is not enough.”

“Great. Just great,” Dean sighed, shaking his head. “We were lucky that Crowley was willing to give us _that_ out. We’ll never get another concession out of him.”

“Well, it can’t be helped,” Bobby said, lightly slapping the table as he rose. “We’re not killing an angel who’s grieving for his mate. I can’t justify that. Not after Karen. If everyone’s done, let’s get this over with.”

“Bobby,” Cas intoned, making the older man pause, “you know that I will mount a rescue for you, should we fail to persuade Crowley today, correct? I’ll not let a member of my family suffer the torments of Hell.”

Bobby’s eyes were as big as saucers at Cas’ grave, matter-of-fact tone. Sam was similarly struck. But Dean smiled and took Castiel’s hand.

“And he won’t be alone either. We’re stronger together, so I’ll be along too, if it comes down to it,” he vowed.

Bobby sniffed and blinked rapidly. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that then, ya idjits,” he grumbled, but his voice was suspiciously rough. No one was fooled. He clomped down the basement stairs and Sam just shook his head at them.

It felt like déjà-vu, as Dean lit the match and dropped it into the spell bowl. The same trap was drawn on the floor and Castiel once again wielded his blade. It only took a moment until Crowley was back before the Winchesters.

“Hello, boys,” the demon greeted. “I hope you have good news for me.” No one spoke. “Or not. What happened? How could you lot screw this up? You’ve killed everything else to ever cross your path.”

“There are extenuating circumstances in this case, Crowley,” Cas rumbled.

“Exten… Extenuating circumstances?!” Crowley shouted. “Do you lumberjacks not understand that it is Robert’s _soul_ you are dealing for? What could possibly be extenuating enough to forget that?”

“We did not forget the stakes,” Cas almost shouted, a little of his true voice ringing through. “But the perpetrator was my brother. He has relinquished ownership of the souls he bought and will not bargain for more. But I wasn’t going to kill a close friend for _you_.”

“Very nice,” Crowley mockingly congratulated them. “Good for you, sticking up for a close friend. Oh, wait; you’ve killed one in the process!” He turned to Bobby. “How do you feel about that, Robert? Your soul isn’t as important to him as one angel buddy. ‘Course, you’re only human, so why fuss?”

“That has nothing to do with it!” Cas snapped hotly. “The decision was not made lightly.”

“But it was _your_ decision, correct?” Crowley prodded.

“No, actually, it was mine,” Bobby interrupted. “Castiel explained the situation and I agreed that killing this angel was unnecessary and cruel to everyone involved.”

“I never took you for a fool, Bobby,” Crowley said, after a moment of stunned silence. “I guess the Winchester penchant for self-sacrifice is catching. Don’t stand too close now, boys; I don’t want it.”

Sam and Dean rolled their eyes, and Cas squinted at the demon angrily.

“Well, you screwed the pooch on taking out my competition boys, but let me guess. You still want to deal for Bobby’s soul. I would still accept some of Dean’s shiny new Grace,” Crowley continued. “I could make excellent use of that, I’m sure.”

Castiel growled, and it sounded like thunder rumbling in his throat. It was only Dean’s quick thinking, plus his arms and wings wrapped around him that stopped the angel from charging at the King of Hell. Crowley laughed at the expression on Castiel’s face, even as the room shook around them.

“Alright boys, let’s put them away,” Bobby grumbled. “We’re getting off topic here again. What exactly would you accept in trade for my soul? Bear in mind that none of us is giving you our souls, or the equivalent of, and we’re not helping you pop Purgatory.”

“In that case, Robert, no deal. You haven’t got anything I want enough to trade. Anything else you do have I’ll just put on my list to steal sometime when you’re not looking.

Dean’s heart dropped to his shoes. The demon wasn’t kidding. He had no intention of giving Bobby back his soul. He wondered if it came down to it, if he and Cas could _really_ mount a rescue mission to Hell when Crowley finally collected his due. He looked at the angel in his arms, who’d finally stopped struggling. Cas had a very pensive look on his face, like he was considering something he’d wanted to keep back. Dean released him carefully.

“Rowena McCloud,” Castiel stated.

Crowley started when Castiel spoke. “How d’you know that name?”

“It wasn’t hard to find out. We know your original human name and the name of your son. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together from there if one knows where to look,” Castiel explained.

“Care to fill in the rest of us, Cas?” Dean said, completely lost.

“My dear Squirrel, that is my mother,” Crowley said, with a sneer. “Although, I’m not sure just what you expect to do with that information. She’s been dead for hundreds of years, and I didn’t like her any more than I liked my son.”

“I assure you, she is quite alive,” Castiel said blandly. “She’s been living in the United States for some time now, but she’s stayed below the hunter radar. I only became aware of her because I was specifically looking.”

“You’re lying. Which is quite unbecoming for an angel,” Crowley shot back, a little desperately. “But even if you aren’t, like I said, I hate the bitch.”

“I assure you I am not lying to you. She was and is a very powerful witch. She’s managed to evade Death for a long time by many unsavory means. And I did hear you the first time you expressed your dislike of her. I’d be willing to provide you her location and a spell to avoid being vaporized by her, if you agree to exchange Bobby’s soul for it.”

“And why can’t I just find my dear old mum all by myself?”

“She is heavily warded. I only came across her location by happy accident and the circumstances leading to it have changed now. You would be unable to find her unaided. And as I said, she is capable of vaporizing demons via spell work. She wouldn’t hesitate to use it on you. But I can give you a spell that would make you impervious to such magical attacks. Do with her what you will, when you find her.”

Crowley blinked. He was unsure if the deal was legitimate. On one hand, he could torture his mother, which he’d been waiting to do for what seemed like forever. On the other hand, he’d lose his leverage over the Winchester boys permanently. It was unlikely that they would be willing to make another deal with him for anything, any time soon. He paced back and forth the few steps the Devils’ Trap allowed him, mulling over possibilities.

“C’mon Crowley,” Sam spoke up. “You know you won’t get a better deal. You’ll be completely invulnerable to magic attacks and you’ll get your revenge on your mother. The invulnerability alone is worth Bobby’s soul.”

“Yes,” Castiel continued. “The spell also acts as a deterrent to most summoning spells, including the one we used to summon you here today.”

That got Crowley’s attention fast. “No one will be able to summon me?”

“I did not say that,” Castiel said. “Only that the spell rebuffs _most_ summoning spells. I know of a few that will work around it. But I’m sure there are no humans who do.”

“So basically, I’ll still be at the beck and call of you lot. That’s hardly an enticement.”

“But you wouldn’t be able to be summoned by anyone else,” Castiel reiterated, rolling his eyes.

“Think about it. We really have no need to summon you, Crowley unless you’ve specifically done something to us first. We don’t want you around,” Dean jumped in. “So basically, if you leave us alone, probably no one will ever summon you again.”

“Dean, I’m hurt,” Crowley jeered, but he was seriously considering the offer. What they were offering did have some merit. It would put him at a level far beyond most demons. He thought about it for a few more minutes, pacing back and forth in the limited space allowed him. “I accept,” he finally said, “on the condition that you write out my mother’s exact location and the spell ingredients, and you promise me that you’ll never summon me again. It’s bad for morale, you know, you lot always whisking me away.”

“What he means to say is that it makes him look bad,” Dean said snidely.

“Agreed,” Bobby said, ignoring Dean. “I also want it in writing.”

Crowley snapped and Bobby hissed at the familiar pain of adding to his contract. “Done. Care to check angel? It’s on a somewhat more risqué body part this time.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bobby quickly said.

“I’ll know if you’ve lied to us, Crowley,” Castiel warned. “I hope, for your sake, that you do not. Though, it might be fun for me. I already want to smite you. That would simply give me an excuse.”

“You lot are terrible at taking a joke, you know that? It’s on his hip.” Crowley scowled at them.

Bobby then let Cas check, and when he gave the nod of approval, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Cas got to writing, a faint smile on his face. The gleam in Crowley’s eyes was almost manic when the angel handed him the sheet of paper. He snatched it away, his eyes scanning the page eagerly for a moment before his expression fell. He flipped the page over, but it was blank.

“What is this?” he demanded hotly, face going red.

“Exactly what you asked for,” Cas answered blandly, that little smile still on his face.

“No, it bloody well is not!” Crowley denied.

“Cas, come on, what did you give him? This isn’t funny, man,” Dean said anxiously.

“It is the requested information. The contract doesn’t specify what language it was to be written in, only that it was written down,” Cas explained smugly, while the demon sputtered almost incoherently.

“This is in that same bloody script I gave _you_ to decipher!” Crowley howled. “I _told_ you I couldn’t read it!”

The grins on his family’s faces made the joke all the better, as Cas said, “That was your own mistake. Be more specific in the future. I expect your part of the bargain to be upheld, now that mine is fulfilled.”

“You, you arrogant, celestial… cockroach!” Crowley thundered. “You haven’t heard the last of me! You think I targeted you before? That will be _nothing_ compared to what I do to you!”

“Any time now, Your Highness,” Bobby interrupted mockingly.

Crowley ground his teeth together audibly and his eyes flicked to eerie, solid crimson. He snapped his fingers and Bobby glowed red as his contract burned away.

“Cas, will you check to see that everything’s proper?” Bobby asked calmly.

Castiel moved back to his side and Bobby bit down on a wooden spoon as the angel checked his soul.

“There is no remaining mark of ownership,” Cas reported, as he withdrew his hand.

Crowley was now fuming silently in indignation that the angel had essentially checked his work.

“Looks like the dealing is done,” Dean quipped. “So we can count our profits.”

“Dean…” Sam groaned, embarrassed to be related to such a dork.

“What?” Dean asked. “We came out ahead today. It’s not every day that you can pull a fast one on the King of Hell.”

“Just… no,” Sam said. “Stop while you’re ahead.”

Dean smirked at Sam’s unintentional gambling reference, and Sam slapped a hand over his face, groaning. Dean winked at Cas, who smiled and walked over to the Devil’s Trap on the floor.

“If I see you anywhere near us or our friends, I’ll smite you,” he warned the demon calmly. “You’ll get no more warnings and no more deals. Take your spell and go,” he ordered, finally breaking the seal with the toe of his dress shoe.

“Come on back if you ever want to try again,” Dean half sang. “I told you once you son of a bitch, we’re the best that’s ever been.”

Sam could only shake his head a Dean’s antics.

Crowley shot them all a poisonous look and vanished. Dean rushed to his mate and jumped on him, heedless of the other men in the room. He smacked a huge kiss on Cas’ cheek and grinned so wide that the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Dude, you’re so friggin’ awesome!” he exclaimed. “Guys, I got the best mate ever,” he said, turning to Sam and Bobby.

Cas visibly preened under the attention of his mate and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Yeah, I guess we can let him stick around,” Bobby said, rolling his eyes at the pair.

“Aw, c’mon Bobby,” Sam wheedled. “The look on Crowley’s face was pretty epic when he realized what Cas had done.”

“True,” Bobby agreed. “Never thought I’d see the day someone outmaneuvered the King of Hell. But boy, if you scare me like that that again, I’ll banish you through the next ten universes. You hear me, ya idjit?”

Cas smiled and ducked his head.

“That means he loves you, Cas,” Dean stage whispered.

“That goes for you, too,” Bobby rounded on Dean, but it was ruined by a huge smile. “Thank you, boys. All of you.”

Cas held out his hand to shake. Bobby looked at it for a moment before he grabbed Cas in a hug.

“Hell, boy, you’re practically my son in law. I think we’re beyond handshakes. Especially when you get my soul back for practically nothing,” Bobby said, thumping Cas on the back before releasing him. “Now,” he continued in a sly tone, “since you didn’t ask anybody’s permission, what are your intentions with Dean?”

“Bobby!” Dean protested in utter mortification.

“Uh, my intentions…” Cas mumbled, looking at his shoes and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t answer that, Cas,” Dean begged.

Cas looked up at his mate. “No, your family should know,” Cas said honestly. “My intentions are to keep him forever and make him as happy as I can the whole while. I intend to love him.”

“Awwww,” both Bobby and Sam cooed.

Dean’s face was flaming. “Oh my God, Cas,” he gasped, wishing for the floor to swallow him whole. Then he noticed the angel’s earnest and sincere expression and he melted. “Ditto,” he finally said, grinning softly.

Sam rolled his eyes. “First _The Gambler_ and _The Devil Went Down to Georgia_ and now _Ghost_? You really are a dork, Dean.”

“Hey, Swayze always gets a pass,” Dean defended.

“I don’t understand that reference,” Cas announced solemnly.

The day devolved from there, into a debate on the merits of the late, great Patrick Swayze, alternative forms of saying, “I love you,” in TV and movies, and general bickering. Movies were quoted (and misquoted), Sam’s laptop was dragged out to search IMDB, and nothing got done. Dean and Cas barricaded themselves in Bobby’s guest room that night and refused to come out for three weeks. Sam and Bobby had to find a hunt out of town by day two, if only to save their sanity.

In later years, it would become one of Bobby’s fondest memories, right up there with the boys bickering over movie theater candy. It was one he visited often in Heaven, when he wasn’t busy helping Ash and Ellen at the Roadhouse, or scolding Dean for some prank he’d played on Sam or Virgil. It was a great day to be alive.


End file.
